


Superior Powers of Observation

by AetherSprite (AranthianPrincess)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: H/D Smoochfest, HP: EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AranthianPrincess/pseuds/AetherSprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While sneaking around in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library Harry somehow manages to get himself bonded to none other than his arch rival Draco Malfoy. Meanwhile, Hogwarts students are mysteriously turning up in magical comas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superior Powers of Observation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., Bloomsbury Books, and all other legal copyright holders. This fan-fiction is written for fun, not profit.
> 
> Warning(s): Not really... Except for maybe gratuitous overuse of the word culprit.
> 
> Previously posted here on AO3 as part of the 2013 HD Smoochfest. Written for xenadragon_xoxo on LJ.

Harry crept silently through the Hogwarts library covered in his Invisibility Cloak. A brief nostalgic burst of memory assailed him as he stepped into the Restricted Section. Times when he, Ron, and Hermione had wandered Hogwarts' corridors at night flashed before his eyes. They were fond memories that made Harry smile before he shook his head to clear his mind of distracting thoughts. Now was not the time. Later, he would reminisce, assuming he got the information he had come for.

This time, Harry traveled alone, edging past ancient stacks and even older tomes. Only his eyes roved the spines for titles since he was too wary of making one scream at him like in first year. Harry chuckled to himself at that thought, remembering how little hope for him he had seen in the eyes of people like Severus Snape. If only the greasy Potions master could see him now, then Harry would prove he could learn something after all.

Seemingly endless rows of books loomed before him. Harry sighed. This was looking to be a long night. That was, if the book he was looking for even existed.

A muffled thump, like someone stubbing their toe on a table leg, sounded down the aisle from him. Harry turned toward the noise, but saw nothing. Shrugging it off as his imagination, he continued his search, pausing again when he thought he heard a breathy, high-pitched yelp from further away. Frowning, Harry stared back the way he had come, burning a hole in several shelves of books. He was listening intently for another sound, but heard nothing. Hopefully he wasn't hearing things again. Harry could really do without the whispers and outright taunts of second year when the entire student body had thought him the Heir of Slytherin.

Three aisles further in, Harry stopped. He had found what he was looking for. On a shelf just above his head was a book titled _Gemstones and the Dark Arts, Volume 1_. Harry reached for it, moving slowly so as to be sure he wouldn't suddenly lose his cloak and become visible to anyone possibly passing through the library at an inopportune moment.

 _Really, Harry, whose going to be wandering around a library in the middle of the night?_ He chided himself, then paused and answered. _Someone like me, perhaps?_

His fingers just barely brushed the crumbling spine when he felt a warm tingling rush up his arm. Confused, Harry paused for just a moment, staring. In that moment, a brilliant flash of light engulfed and blinded him. Harry let out a startled cry and thought he heard a similar hiss of surprise and pain from right next to him before he fell to the floor.

Just as the world was fading to black, Harry thought he could feel something whisper-smooth wrapping tightly around his wrist.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up to a persistent shaking. Someone was roughly shoving at his shoulder and hissing muffled words that he finally managed to translate into a general order to wake up now.

The library was still dark when Harry opened his eyes and he was mostly alone, except for the very rude, insistent person who was still shaking his shoulder. Harry reached up an arm and shoved the offending hand away irritably.

“Will you stop that?” He demanded, not even bothering to look and see who it was at first. Harry was much more interested in determining what had happened and why. “What's going on? What happened?”

“If I knew that, Potter, then I certainly wouldn't still be in your exulted presence,” his mysterious companion replied.

Harry froze when he heard that silken, aristocratic voice. _No, no, it can't be._ He begged silently, turning to face the voice. Unfortunately, it was. Draco Malfoy sat on the floor looking quite irate. His gray eyes narrowed into an annoyed glare focused on Harry and white blond hair mussed from his time on the floor. Forcing himself to concentrate on the current problem, Harry asked the next obvious question.

“What do you mean? Just leave,” he said, exasperated. For answer, Malfoy raised his right arm for Harry to see. It seemed to move a few inches into empty air before an answering pull tugged Harry's left arm up after it. Harry stared incredulously. “Are these origami manacles? Does that mean we're stuck together?”

Circling both his and Malfoy's wrists were what looked like folded circles of paper covered in pitch black writing. The words were illegible and seemed to run together, even across folded lines. Connecting them was a longer piece of folded paper, covered in similar markings. It did, in fact, look a lot like a pair of origami manacles.

“Your superior powers of observation astound me, Potter,” Malfoy snarked. Harry just tossed him an annoyed look before yanking at their bindings. Malfoy yelped at the unexpected jerking of his arm. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“We should just be able to tear ourselves apart,” Harry explained slowly, as though talking to a small child. Malfoy huffed a little at his tone, but didn't interrupt. “It _is_ just parchment.”

“Do you honestly think I would have stuck around to make sure the sleeping Saviour awakened before he was discovered out of bounds if I could have escaped that easily, Scarhead? I already tried tearing it. I also tried casting various hexes and curses at it, including that one you cast on me in sixth year.”

Harry colored a little at the gruesome reminder, but otherwise managed to ignore the jibe. Instead, he thought about their current predicament, running through every plan he could think of. First, he thought about dragging Malfoy back to Gryffindor Tower and convincing Hermione to help, but he didn't think Malfoy would be exactly cooperative. His second idea involved them staying in the library and doing the research themselves. While this would have been more amenable to Malfoy, Harry knew they'd never be able to reverse whatever spell was placed on them by morning.

“Right, there's no other choice,” Harry declared, pushing himself to his feet and standing slouched over to accommodate Malfoy's still seated position. He gathered his Invisibility Cloak and checked that his wand was still where he had left it while Malfoy stared at him.

“What?”

“We'll have to go to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry explained.

Malfoy shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not! She'll get McGonagall involved and from there it's just a matter of time before the press finds out. Let's just do this ourselves.”

“By morning, Malfoy? Really?” Harry asked skeptically. “We'll never manage by then. Unless you want to go back to Gryffindor Tower and ask for Hermione's help?”

Malfoy made a face that clearly said “you're barking mad if you think I'm going to ask that know-it-all for help with this.” Harry nodded with finality, tugging at the paper manacles. Malfoy reluctantly climbed to his feet with a whole lot of incoherent grumbling.

“That's what I thought,” Harry smirked a little, leading the way back out of the library. “If we hurry, we should be able to get this little problem resolved before anyone realizes we're missing.”

Malfoy muttered something under his breath that sounded like “yeah, right,” but Harry felt free to ignore him as he pushed open the library doors and exited into the darkened corridor beyond.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry shoved open the doors to the Hospital Wing, dragging a still grumbling Draco Malfoy behind him. Merlin, he hoped Madam Pomfrey could find a way to get them both out of this, otherwise he might end up killing Malfoy and that would not be good for his reputation. Already the blond was getting on his nerves enough to cause Harry to grit his teeth. Maybe Madam Pomfrey could give him something for that too.

“Good heavens! What is going on here?” The matron cried, bustling toward them from the direction of her office. She was dressed in her sleeping clothes, drawing a dressing gown around her as she came towards them.

“It's nothing serious, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry explained, unrepentantly jabbing Malfoy in the side with an elbow when the Slytherin opened his mouth to make an undoubtedly rude comment. “We just had an unfortunate mishap and got tied together.”

Harry lifted his arm attached to Malfoy's to show her. Malfoy glowered, but Harry ignored him. Madam Pomfrey, on the other hand, stared with widened eyes. She quickly got her expression back under control, though, and bustled them toward a pair of beds, waving her wand and directing them closer together so they wouldn't have to stretch uncomfortably.

They sat obediently. Malfoy seemed to be trying to sit as far away from Harry as possible. Not that Harry cared. He was only enduring the ferret's presence until Madam Pomfrey could come up with a way to separate them. She was examining the origami manacles now, frowning and muttering to herself with the occasional waving of her wand. Eventually, Malfoy seemed to have reached the limit of his patience and spoke up.

“Well?” He prompted, glaring at the matron as though their predicament was her fault.

“I'm afraid there is nothing I can do,” Pomfrey informed them, shaking her head. “I'll call the headmistress. She might have some suggestions.”

The matron bustled off to call McGonagall despite Malfoy's protests. Harry only sat there and waited, seeing no point in trying to argue with Pomfrey on a mission. Malfoy fell silent once she disappeared and turned his glare on Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at him and went back to contemplating the floor.

Not long after that the doors opened again allowing McGonagall and this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to step inside. Pomfrey bustled back out of her office to meet them. The small group gathered in front of Harry and Malfoy, muttering to themselves. Harry assumed they were discussing his and Malfoy's current predicament.

Annoyed, Harry broke into their discussion as soon as they got close enough. “What is it, professor?”

He was staring fixedly at McGonagall, but she gestured Professor Howard Trevane to answer instead. The man was tall and gangly, with wire rim spectacles and dark, thinning hair. He looked more like he belonged in the Ministry as an Undersecretary or something rather than as a professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but none of his classes had complained yet, so Harry assumed he must be doing alright. He bent down, examining the two students' bond quickly before straightening once more and giving them a regretful look.

“I'm sorry, gentlemen, but there is absolutely nothing we can do for you,” Trevane informed them. He continued at the outraged look on Malfoy's face, completely missing the look of resignation Harry gave the floor. “This is Dark Arts. Whoever cast it had a very specific goal in mind. Until the requirements of the bond are fulfilled you will be stuck bonded together.”

“What?!” Malfoy jumped to his feet, his face a thundercloud of rage. Harry, afraid he might attack the assembled professors, yanked on their paper bond to hold him back. The blond turned a withering glare on Harry, but wasted as little time and energy on him as possible when there were other people to argue with. “There has to be something you can do! You can't just leave us like this. We'll kill each other!”

McGonagall fired a disapproving stare right over her spectacles at Malfoy and drew herself up importantly. “I'm afraid I concur with Professor Trevane, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Tonight, the two of you will sleep here. We'll deal with your new living and learning arrangements in the morning. Good night.”

With that, she spun on her heel and strode from the room, dressing gown swirling behind her impressively. Trevane followed while Pomfrey went back to her own quarters after making sure they had everything they would need for the night. Harry settled in his bed as soon as they left, intending to just go to sleep and forget about this whole mess for a few hours at least. Malfoy, apparently, had other plans.

“Can you believe this?” He hissed, sitting on his bed with arms crossed imperiously. “They're going to leave us like this and force us to work it out ourselves. So much for professors protecting the students.”

Harry sighed, but answered anyway, thinking that would be the quickest way to get the Slytherin to shut up. “It's nothing new, Malfoy. Maybe they'll come up with something in the morning. And, if not, I've dealt with plenty of worse things without a professor's help and when I was much younger.”

“Yes, well, we can't all be the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World, can we?”

“Just go to sleep, Malfoy,” Harry suggested, using all his willpower to hold back his own insults.

A few more minutes of grumbling under his breath and Malfoy finally fell asleep. Harry sighed happily into the silence and allowed sleep to claim him as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, fortunately it was a Saturday so they had no classes, Harry and Malfoy were informed that McGonagall had set them up with their own quarters for the duration of their ordeal. Pomfrey allowed them to eat their breakfast – brought to the Hospital Wing by none other than Winky the house elf – and told them to wait for the headmistress who would escort them to their new rooms.

Harry ate in silence, doing his best to ignore Malfoy. He hoped this bonding thing had a time limit because Harry wasn't sure how long the two of them would be able to just ignore each other. It was the smartest course of action and the only one likely to preserve both their lives, but Harry knew that he had very little self-restraint and Malfoy didn't have much more.

Fortunately, McGonagall arrived before either of them felt the need to start sniping at the other. Her stern gaze looked over the both of them, at once warning them to be on their best behaviour and checking for evidence of any squabbles they might have had in the night. A minute later she seemed satisfied with what she saw. Harry thought she might have decided that they hadn't fought yet and were unlikely to do so between now and when she managed to ensconce them in their new quarters. After that, they were probably allowed to do as they liked as far as McGonagall was concerned.

Harry thought that was a bit unprofessional, but felt badly for the thought a moment later. He understood, really he did. McGonagall was new to the Headmistress position and, in addition to dealing with all the usual duties of a headmistress, she also had to deal with the aftermath of the war. There had to be a lot of students with leftover anger and issues that had yet to be resolved. McGonagall had her hands full this year and didn't need the added stress of him and Malfoy fighting.

Just as Harry was resolving to make this experience run as smoothly as possible and maybe actually get along with Malfoy, McGonagall spoke.

“Come along, gentlemen. I will show you to the temporary quarters you will share while this spell runs its course.”

Malfoy grumbled something under his breath that Harry didn't bother to listen to. As long as he wasn't planning on making things difficult, Harry reckoned Malfoy could be allowed to express his displeasure in mutterings and the like. Harry, on the other hand, stood without complaint and followed the headmistress from the Hospital Wing, Malfoy walked beside him but as far away as the bond would comfortably allow.

They were led up several flights of stairs and through winding corridors until McGonagall stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall. She spoke the password – “Turnip heads!” – and the stone slid away to reveal a doorway into what looked to be a miniaturized version of their common rooms. It was decorated in neutral colors with several comfortable, squashy-looking armchairs; a sofa; a large fireplace with a roaring fire; and a few wooden tables with matching chairs where they could work on their assignments.

Landscape paintings decorated the walls with a couple tapestries depicting unicorns in what looked to be the Forbidden Forest. Shadowy figures lurked in the background that reminded Harry of the night he, Malfoy, Hermione, and Neville had detention together in their first year. The only thing that assured him the figure wasn't Voldemort was the vaguely animal shape. Harry wondered if Malfoy felt the same familiarity with the tapestries as he did, but quickly decided not to ask. It would probably start a row.

“I trust the two of you will be able to settle in on your own,” McGonagall spoke, startling Harry out of his reverie. “Your belongings have already been brought to your new room which can be found behind that door,” she pointed to a door on the far wall. “A private bathroom adjoins the bedroom for your convenience. I expect you both to make an appearance in the Great Hall for lunch.”

“Like we have a choice. We're stuck together,” Malfoy muttered under his breath, but he was close enough this time for Harry to hear him. McGonagall gave him a disapproving glance, though she said nothing. Harry happened to agree with Malfoy.

“What about my friends?” Harry asked, looking at the headmistress.

“I have sent them an owl already telling them not to worry and that you would join them in the Great Hall for lunch to explain everything. I also cautioned them to keep an open mind, for what it's worth.”

Harry thanked her and McGonagall left with a final instruction to work out their class schedules, the wall sliding closed behind her. Turning to Malfoy, Harry thought he would suggest they do as McGonagall suggested and work out their class schedules before they were expected at lunch, but the sour look on Malfoy's face made him think better of the impulse. Instead he remained silent, trying to think of anything he could say or do that would get Malfoy to talk without starting a fight. In the end, he could think of nothing and decided to go ahead and dive in head first just to get it over with.

“Do you want to work out our schedules before lunch?” Harry asked, his voice coming out more tentative than he would've liked.

Malfoy glared at him for a good minute before sighing in defeat and nodding his head. They picked a small table in the corner of the room to pour over their schedules and spoke quietly when they had to. By the time lunch time rolled around he and Malfoy had managed to work out a schedule they were both happy with and owled a copy to McGonagall so she could make their professors aware of the changes.

They went down to the Great Hall after. Harry wondered if Malfoy was dreading the stares, whispers, and pointing they were sure to get when they showed up at lunch bonded together as much as Harry was. The only positive Harry could see was at least he'd already endured this kind of infamy before and it would at least be a change of pace from the hero worship he'd seen since the final battle. There was always a silver lining if you squinted hard enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry and Malfoy pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and were instantly met with a hushed silence. The sudden quiet lasted only a few seconds before the Hall broke out in loud chatter. People were pointing and staring just like Harry had expected they would. He did not expect, however, that Malfoy would freeze under the scrutiny. Harry knew from experience that standing there and taking it was a bad idea, so he dragged Malfoy by the arm until they reached the Gryffindor table and Harry's friends.

Malfoy went along almost agreeably until he saw their destination and pulled up short. He was shaking his head and growling at Harry.

“I am not sitting with the bloody Gryffindors, Potter. So you can just forget it,” he declared, leaning as far away from Harry and the Gryffindor table as possible.

“Come on, Malfoy. It's just for a few minutes and I need to tell my friends what happened,” Harry tried reasoning.

“What about my friends?” Malfoy asked. Harry looked pointedly at the Slytherin table where only Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson sat, the only other Slytherin eighth years to return aside from Malfoy. Malfoy saw where he was looking and turned a scowl on him, opening his mouth to spew some outraged comment. Harry quickly headed that off.

“Look,” he said, holding up placating hands. “We can go over to the Slytherin table as soon as I'm done talking to my friends. Just give me ten minutes, yeah?”

Malfoy still looked annoyed, but he nodded and reluctantly sat next to Harry on the bench. Harry immediately turned to his friends, who were patiently waiting with curious expressions on their faces, and started explaining his latest predicament. They listened in utter silence, Hermione's eyes growing wider as Harry spoke. Ron just looked sorry for him. When he finished, Harry checked to see what Malfoy, who had been strangely silent, was doing and found him picking at bits of food on his plate he must have gathered during Harry's story. Shrugging, Harry turned back to his friends. At least Malfoy wasn't causing problems.

“That's horrible, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, hands to her mouth. “I'll start looking up curses and counter-curses in the library. Maybe I can find something that will help.”

She stood and hurried out of the Great Hall, on her way to the library no doubt. Ron gave him an apologetic look and turned back to his plate.

“Sorry, mate,” the ginger said around a mouthful of potatoes. “That sucks, but I'm sure Hermione will find something to help you. If anyone can, it's her. You know that.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ron,” Harry was truly grateful for his best friends' support. McGonagall's suggestion to keep an open mind must have helped after all. He stood, Malfoy following suit without a word. “We're going to head over to the Slytherin table now. Malfoy wants to talk to his friends about this too.”

Ron eyed the Slytherin table distrustfully. “Alright. See you in class, then?”

“You bet,” Harry waved jauntily and walked with Malfoy over to the Slytherin table.

Malfoy sat next to Zabini, Harry taking the seat next to him. He proceeded to turn to Zabini and Parkinson, effectively excluding Harry from their whispered conversation. Harry didn't mind, reckoning Malfoy deserved his privacy and the same courtesy he had shown Harry just a few minutes ago. So Harry began piling his plate with food and proceeded to ignore everyone else at the table.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Boy-Who-Lived Bonded to Son of Convicted Death Eater**

_The strangest rumors began circulating yesterday about our Saviour and his schoolboy rival. This reporter has it on good authority that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, and Saviour of the Wizarding World has been accidentally bonded to Draco Malfoy, son of convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy._

_Readers will remember that Lucius Malfoy was tried and acquitted after the First Wizarding War as a Death Eater, one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's loyal followers. He was tried and convicted of the same crime and many more, including Muggle baiting and torture, after the Second Wizarding War. His son, Draco Malfoy, was also tried as a Death Eater this past summer, but was acquitted due to testimony from none other than the Boy-Who-Lived himself, who also testified on behalf of wife and mother Narcissa Malfoy._

_One has to wonder, though, if the Malfoys are quite satisfied with all the Saviour has done for them. Could this new incident be a ploy to gain more aid on their behalf from the Defeater of You-Know-Who? This reporter has to admit that the idea has merit. What wouldn't a disgraced pure-blood family do to regain their former social status and clear their name? Likely this “accident” was engineered to achieve those goals._

_Whether accident or intentional ploy, this reporter is certain that Harry Potter seems to attract more than his share of trouble._

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry looked up from his Transfiguration essay when he heard Malfoy throw the Sunday edition of the _Prophet_ to the floor.

“Bloody bint!” He shouted, glaring fiery holes in the stone wall. “That Skeeter woman has some nerve writing about my family that way!”

Curious, Harry picked the paper up and read the front page article. The headline screamed at him in two inch high letters. He chuckled at the headline and snorted at each title they gave him throughout the article. Skeeter was certainly trying for some originality on that front at least, but she failed miserably. Harry was confident every title and nickname for him had already been thought up in the first two weeks after the final battle.

Finished reading, he folded the _Prophet_ neatly on the table in front of him. “Now you know why I don't get the _Prophet_ anymore,” he said calmly.

“Oh, can't deal with all the praise and adoration, Scarhead?” Malfoy sniped and scowled fiercely when Harry only smirked at him.

“The titles do get annoying after awhile, especially when they keep printing the same ones,” Harry quipped. “In fact, 'Scarhead' is the most original nickname I've heard in years.”

Malfoy stared at him, his expression wavering between bewilderment and anger. He looked like he was having trouble deciding which side of the fence to come down on. Finally, he just settled for exasperated.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry stared for a second, stunned by how vulnerable Malfoy sounded. He must have taken too long to respond, though, because Malfoy was turning away from him, his eyes growing cold and shuttered again. That Ice Prince mask falling perfectly into place at a simple thought.

“Because I think being caught in this spell with someone you used to hate is hard enough without my making it any worse,” Harry explained quickly, keeping his voice just as quiet as Malfoy's had been.

“But I've been difficult since we woke up in the library and you never struck back at me.”

Harry shrugged. “I guess the war changed me. I'm tired of squabbling and fighting over petty things that don't really deserve the attention. Honestly, I'd rather completely start over. It's about time, don't you think?” He stuck his hand out, looking Malfoy right in the eye. “Hi. My name is Harry Potter.”

Malfoy stared at his hand hovering over the table for what felt like long hours before he finally grasped it firmly in one warm, pale hand. The long fingers curling gracefully around Harry's slightly darker ones. Shining silver eyes looked up into deep green and Malfoy spoke with a solemnity that felt oddly contrary yet fitting for the occasion.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Draco Malfoy.”

Harry smiled and released Malfoy's hand. He returned to his Transfiguration essay. It was due tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Potions was a much more novel and interesting experience when you had to pay attention to the way you and your partner moved your arms and how the paper manacles connecting you could get tangled and scatter ingredients. Harry and Malfoy spent the first half of the lesson in a state of near constant disaster. Harry had no idea how many times they got tangled up with each other or accidentally knocked a vital ingredient to the floor. Of course, Malfoy blamed Harry and his “inherent Gryffindor clumsiness” for all of it even though at least half of the problems had been caused by the great blond git himself.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from pointing this out. After all, he wasn't stupid, no matter how much Malfoy would insist he must be by virtue of being Sorted into Gryffindor. He knew that if they were to have any hope of earning passing marks on this potion, Harry would have to let Malfoy concentrate and that meant no taunts or jibes or sniping. Malfoy was the one with the talent and any hope of finishing the potion correctly. Not for the first time, Harry regretted hiding the Prince's textbook in the Room of Requirement.

“Don't just sit there staring off into space, Potter,” Malfoy's snappish voice jarred Harry back into the present. Unsurprisingly, his Potions partner was scowling viciously at him. “You could slice those shrivelfigs since you're not doing anything anyway.”

Harry made a low growling sound in his throat to show his displeasure at being ordered about like some slave, but made no other protest. Malfoy seemed satisfied that he was obeying and turned back to the simmering potion. Harry caught a glance at it and thought the vaguely brown-green color made the potion look rather a lot like boiling mucus. Deciding now would not be a good time to vomit all over the floor, Harry got started on those shrivelfigs.

“No, no! The silver knife, Potter!”

Harry dropped the knife he had been about to use to slice the shrivelfigs at Malfoy's outburst. It would be just his luck that the blade would cut neatly through the fleshy part of his hand. A sudden spark of pain, gone as quickly as he felt it, and a blossoming of scarlet blood trickled down his hand and over his wrist. Harry immediately moved his arm so the blood wouldn't land on the shrivelfig and contaminate it.

“Did you really have to shout like that?” Harry hissed, sucking on the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding.

“Yes, I did. If you had used that knife and then I put the shrivelfig in the potion we would have been left with a very lovely, and quite violent, explosion.”

Harry stared with raised eyebrows, unimpressed with Malfoy's defense. “And I'm sure that my blood mixing in with the potion wouldn't make it any more unstable,” he deadpanned.

“Of course not! Blood isn't even required for this potion. Why would we use it?”

He was going to kill Malfoy. He really was. Harry knew the git was being deliberately stupid. Malfoy couldn't have seriously missed the now alarming amount of blood leaking from the cut on his hand.

“In case you hadn't noticed, Malfoy, I'm bleeding. I'll probably die from it,” Harry commented. His voice sounded like the perfect mixture of offhand and forlorn. Malfoy only rolled his eyes.

“Your superior powers of observation astound me, Potter.”

“You know, Malfoy, your eyes might fall straight out of your head if you keep rolling them like that.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes again, this time with an accompanying sigh. Harry knew the act was just to spite him. Refusing to rise to the bait, Harry lifted his wounded hand back to his mouth and licked the blood away. Another bead of scarlet welled up from the cut.

“Oh, for Merlin's sake, give me your hand,” Malfoy sounded exasperated, but it made Harry grin even as he held out his injured limb.

Malfoy aimed his wand at the cut and spoke the first syllables of the spell. Suddenly, Harry found himself falling back into a memory from sixth year. He could see their positions reversed as their surroundings melted into the boy's bathroom. Harry could see clearly, as if he were really there, a slightly younger Malfoy leaning against a sink and crying. He could see the moment when Malfoy looked into the mirror and saw Harry. Then they were dueling. Harry could hear the first part of the Cruciatus Curse being formed by paler than normal lips. He remembered the frantic beating of his own heart as he cast that unknown curse from the Prince's book. A fountain of blood, ripped skin, a terrified and dying Malfoy, Harry's own panic and guilt at what he had done.

“ _Episkey!_ ”

Malfoy released his hand and Harry was back in the Potions classroom. No trace of a cut was left on his skin. Only quickly drying blood remained to show there had even been an injury there. Harry was grateful the wound had only been a minor one and not the near-fatal assault he had seen in his memory.

For a moment, Harry despaired of ever managing to gain a friendly rapport with Malfoy. How could he when they had such horrible events in their pasts? When Harry had done such horrible things to him? Such was Harry's guilt that, when Malfoy admonished him for staring off into space again like some third year Hufflepuff with a schoolgirl crush, he only bent his head back to the task at hand without comment. He even made sure to use the silver knife on the shrivelfigs this time. Harry did, however, miss the odd look Malfoy gave him before turning back to his own task.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry sat with Malfoy around one of the larger tables as they worked separately on their assignments. They had found out early on that attempting to use a smaller table so as not to have to stretch the bond as much left them too little room to spread their books and parchment out. After trying for over an hour to make it work, both of them decided to move to the large rectangular table in the middle of the room.

They had more space to work on there, but Harry was forced to let his left arm just lay on the table between them since both he and Malfoy were right-handed and Malfoy's right arm was attached to his left. At least the paper manacles were long enough that Malfoy didn't have to jerk his arm around just to write an essay. In fact, the manacles seemed to lengthen or shorten depending on their needs at the time. Harry had noticed when the two of them were forced into close proximity to each other the manacles shortened so they wouldn't be tripped up by them. Unfortunately, the manacles were still long enough to cause problems in classes like Potions, where it was easy to knock anything and everything over.

Fortunately, schoolwork was not one of those times. Both of them had put their inkwells well out of the reach of their origami manacles after Malfoy had forgotten he was tied to Harry and accidentally knocked his over while reaching for a book. Harry had cleaned up the spilled ink immediately, so Malfoy's essay was saved, but that didn't stop the prat from blaming him for it. This hadn't sat well with Harry, who told Malfoy off and earned himself a very loud row that lasted for several tense minutes before both of them agreed to just keep quiet and focus on their work.

That tenuous peace began well over two hours ago. Now, though, Harry really needed Malfoy's help with his Potions essay. He noticed the great git had already finished his and was now working on the essay due for Defense Against the Dark Arts in a little less than a week. Harry assumed Malfoy had already finished all his other assignments and was getting a head start on the one due for his worst class. This meant he was likely to be in a foul mood if Harry judged the scratched out lines and low grumbling correctly.

Harry spent several minutes alternately staring at his unfinished Potions assignment and taking covert peeks at Malfoy from under his fringe. Finally, he decided to just go for it and ask Malfoy for help. What was the worst that could happen? Besides, it wasn't like he had the ability to go to Hermione for help at the moment. Malfoy would definitely not be willing to make the trek up to Gryffindor Tower so close to curfew. So, Malfoy it would have to be then.

“Erm... Malfoy?” Harry asked tentatively.

“What do you want now, Potter?”

Okay, so Malfoy's response wasn't all that welcoming, but that had never stopped Harry before.

“Could you explain to me again why we had to mix water with the bubotuber puss before we could add it to that potion we made in class the other day? I don't really understand it.”

“Really, Potter?” Malfoy snapped, not even taking his eyes off his own assignment, but Harry didn't need to see his expression to be able to tell Malfoy was going to start insulting him again. “I guess I couldn't expect a Gryffindor to pick up a book and then actually understand the words he read on the page. Did you even try that? Or was it too subtle for you?”

Harry's expression darkened and he turned back to his essay. “Never mind. Forget it, Malfoy. I'll just ask Hermione at breakfast tomorrow.”

The silence in the room was interrupted only by the sound of Harry turning pages in his Potions text and the occasional scratch of quill on parchment as he tried to bully his way through the crisscrossing, convoluted mess that was potions theory. Why couldn't the author just put the reasoning into simple terms so that people who knew nothing about potions could understand the text. At least Harry knew why he hated Potions class even after Snape was no longer teaching it. A sigh from next to him derailed his train of thought.

“I apologize, Potter,” Malfoy whispered. Harry couldn't tell if he was meant to hear or not until Malfoy continued. “Here, let me see.”

Malfoy made a motion for Harry to hand over his essay. Cautiously, Harry did so, watching as Malfoy looked it over and pointed out the parts he had gotten wrong. He even went so far as to explain why the corrected answers were right and why Harry had likely gotten confused. Malfoy spoke with such passion for the subject that Harry found himself actually enjoying learning about Potions for the first time. It helped that Malfoy was something of a good teacher who took the time to explain the finer points to him.

“Thanks,” Harry said several minutes later when he was finally finished with his essay and Malfoy was turning back to his own assignment. The clear, almost happy expression changed once more into frustration when Malfoy looked over his parchment. Feeling like he owed Malfoy for his help, Harry decided to make an offer that would likely start another row between them. “Would you like some help with that? You know, since you spent all that time helping me.”

Malfoy sat frozen for several long moments while Harry waited anxiously for his response. At last, the blond turned to him with a cautious look on his face. “Yes, please,” Malfoy spoke softly, inclining his head.

Harry scooted his chair closer and began reading over Malfoy's shoulder. They spent another hour sitting closely together while Harry explained the intricacies of how and why certain spells worked against certain Dark Arts spells. When they finally went to sleep that night Harry felt for the first time like he and Malfoy could actually become friends.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Another Student Found Unconscious**

_Just this past evening a fourth student, Adam O'Flaherty, was found in a deserted corridor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Just like all the others, he was found unconscious and clutching a ruby gemstone in his fist. And, just like all the others, this most recent victim has yet to awaken._

_Professor Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts' recently promoted Headmistress, has declined to provide an official statement to the press. Confidential sources within the Ministry, however, indicate she is working closely with the Aurors to uncover the culprit behind these attacks._

_Readers and parents may be wondering what is taking so long tracking down the attacker and bringing him or her to justice and they would be correct in questioning the methods of Hogwarts staff and the Ministry, especially since the first three victims had to spend their Christmas holidays unconscious in the Hospital Wing. Many parents are asking why they don't simply start with certain individuals released from Ministry custody so they might complete their education?_

_As I'm sure my loyal readers recall, there are several “students” attending Hogwarts this year who were proven beyond doubt to be You-Know-Who sympathizers, and even a few loyal Death Eaters. What is stopping these young people from taking up He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's cause even after the Dark Lord's recent death? Logically, we must look to those with a history of such acts first and foremost._

_The first name that comes to many is one Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and the son of a Death Eater, currently bonded to the Boy-Who-Lived himself. Draco Malfoy was responsible for letting several Death Eaters into the school, including Fenrir Greyback the notorious werewolf, causing many injuries and deaths. It is rumored that he was even present on the Astronomy Tower for Professor Albus Dumbledore's death, the school's previous headmaster._

_Clearly, Mr. Malfoy has nefarious intentions. I urge the public to make their voices known. We should not allow such a person to attend an institution of learning with innocent young students. And we certainly should not allow such a corrupting presence so near our hero. For the safety of all the Wizarding World, Draco Malfoy should be removed from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Have you see today's _Prophet_ , Harry?”

Harry looked up at Ron's question just in time to catch Hermione elbowing the redhead in the side and giving him a warning look. He and Malfoy were sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast that morning, having agreed on an alternating routine after the first day bonded to each other. They would sit with the Slytherins at lunch and the Gryffindors again at dinner. Tomorrow Harry would have to start his day at the Slytherin table, but he knew it was only fair. Malfoy wasn't complaining about spending time with Harry's friends, so Harry wouldn't complain either.

“You know I don't read the _Prophet_ , Ron,” Harry answered, deciding to ignore Hermione's obvious attempt to curtail Ron's question.

“I think you should read today's edition.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, truly curious. “Why? Has Skeeter written something nasty about the bond again?”

“Oh, Skeeter's written something nasty alright,” Ron muttered, but was nearly drowned out by Hermione's hissed “Ron!”

“What? What did she write this time?”

Hermione sighed, yanking the paper out of Ron's hands and passing it around him to Harry. “Oh, you might as well read it now, Harry.”

Harry took the paper gingerly, like he was half-afraid it was going to bite him. Considering the book he had had to buy for Care of Magical Creatures in third year, that was a serious concern, but not his primary one at the moment. Harry dreaded reading the words printed on the page, complete with a moving picture of a smiling boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen. The headline screamed in inch-high letters: _Another Student Found Unconscious._

He read through the article quickly, expression growing darker as he drew near the end. Finally, Harry slammed the paper down on the table with a loud bang, drawing the suddenly silent attention of the entire Hall.

“This is ridiculous!” Harry shouted, too furious to care that every eye in the room was on him. “How can she be allowed to print such– ”

Harry just trailed off with a growl, unable to come up with a word sufficient to express his feelings on the matter. He let his head fall into his hands, fingers gripping his hair tight enough to hurt. His eyes were closed as he breathed deeply, trying to control his anger. When Harry opened them again he noticed the _Prophet_ was gone.

Looking up in a slight panic, he happened to catch the shocked look on Malfoy's face, nose buried in the paper. Harry watched as pale fingers clenched tighter and tighter, crinkling the edges in his own anger. Suddenly, Harry wanted nothing more than to rip the Prophet from Malfoy's hands and burn it so the blond wouldn't have to read any more, but he was too late.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Malfoy muttered, looking up and right into Harry's confused eyes, his own silver gaze shuttered and devoid of all emotion.

“What would happen?” Harry asked. Malfoy looked over the Gryffindor's shoulder at Ron and Hermione before he answered.

“Nothing.”

Harry was absolutely not satisfied with that answer, but he let it drop, realizing Malfoy would never talk freely in front of a potentially hostile audience. The gray eyes were averted, blond head bowed back over his plate as Draco went back to ignoring them all. The _Daily Prophet_ was abandoned on the table between him and Harry. Snatching the paper up, Harry shoved it roughly into a pocket of his robes.

Ron and Hermione were watching them with poorly concealed curiosity when Harry turned back around. In Ron's case, the curiosity was mixed with just as thinly veiled dislike. He hadn't said anything yet, but Harry could tell Ron was upset about Harry's situation from the looks he gave the bonded pair every time they were together. On one hand, it was nice his friend was concerned, but on the other, it caused Harry unnecessary stress waiting for the violent blow up he was sure was waiting in the wings.

“Did you find anything out in the library, Harry?” Hermione carelessly broke the silence. Then, as if she had just realized what she said, backtracked. “I mean, before the accident.”

Malfoy perked up on his other side at the mention of research. Clearly, he was listening in on their conversation now, something he usually didn't do simply because he couldn't be bothered to expend the energy listening to “the mindless prattle of inane Gryffindor chatter.” That was something else Harry would have to pry out of him when they were alone.

“No, Hermione. I didn't,” Harry answered, accompanying it with a shake of his head.

Hermione's face fell. Harry almost felt bad for letting her down. He knew how much she loved the thrill of learning new information. “Oh, well. I guess we'll just have to try looking somewhere else then.”

“I could go back again,” Harry hurriedly volunteered. “I was interrupted last time, but I think I found a book that could help us.”

A quick, violent jerking of his arm caused Harry to cut himself off with a small yelp. He turned to glare at Malfoy, who had jerked on their bond to get his attention, and met his own stare in gray instead of green. Malfoy stared so intently Harry couldn't help but think he was trying to communicate something without words. Only the slight shake of his head fully conveyed the blond's desires.

“Erm...,” Harry hedged, turning back to his friends with an apologetic look. “I could lend you the Invisibility Cloak and you could go. I'll tell you where I found the book when I bring the Cloak at dinner.”

“Alright, Harry.” Hermione agreed, giving Ron a look full of pride and confidence. Harry couldn't help smiling at his friends. They were the best.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was frustrated. He'd been waiting for a chance to get Malfoy alone all day, but the damn Slytherin seemed to know exactly what he was planning and made sure to avoid that exact situation. It was fairly easy for him. They spent most of their time in class, surrounded by other students and professors. There was no chance they could talk privately there.

Finally, when they were dismissed between lessons, Harry tried to pull him into a deserted side corridor. Malfoy foiled him again. Every. Time. The blond always managed to get them caught in the crowded flow of students, ensuring they, though pressed tightly against each other, were never alone. There was always the chance someone would hear their conversation and Harry was unwilling to take the chance starting some random rumor that caused problems for them both.

Thwarted at every turn, Harry decided he had to force himself to be patient. To that end, he acted like there was nothing unusual or different about today. Like he wasn't desperate to get Malfoy alone and interrogate him about his slip-up during breakfast. He ignored the Slytherin trio at lunch as per usual and chatted with Ron and Hermione at dinner. Harry even agreed to Malfoy's suggestion that they go to the library to study for the evening. He would wait, because, eventually, they would have to return to their rooms and Harry would finally have Malfoy alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was nearly curfew when Malfoy gave up the charade and followed Harry back to their room. Harry gave the password and stepped through the magically appearing doorway, tugging Malfoy along behind him. As soon as both of them were inside, Harry turned and shut the door, carefully blocking it in case Malfoy had a break with sanity and tried to escape.

“What did you mean?”

Malfoy stared at him, arms folded and eyes narrowed in an unimpressed glare. “What did I mean about what?” He drawled lazily.

“What did you mean at breakfast when you said 'I knew this was going to happen'?” Harry asked, careful to phrase the question as strictly as possible so Malfoy couldn't wriggle out of some sneaky loophole.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Malfoy looked away. His crossed arms looking more like a defensive gesture than a defiant one.

“Don't deny it, Malfoy. I heard you. What did you know was going to happen?”

Malfoy stood there for several minutes, studiously avoiding Harry's merciless stare. In fact, he stood there long enough that Harry was opening his mouth to repeat the question when Malfoy seemed to just deflate. His arms dropped to his sides and he bowed his head. That normally haughty voice was whisper-quiet, a barely there sound that Harry had to strain to hear, but at least Malfoy was answering.

“That I would be blamed for the recent attacks,” Malfoy muttered.

Harry gaped at him. He nearly denied the statement's truthfulness when his own experiences in second year caught up to him. Did the press not turn against him like a rabid dog when they thought he was the Heir of Slytherin? Harry had been an unknown quantity then, well-known, but not necessarily well-liked. And fifth year. There wasn't as much press coverage after the initial assault, but the public and the Ministry, especially the Ministry, had hated him then. Why wouldn't they write similarly nasty articles about Malfoy, a hated former Death Eater?

“Is that why you were in the library that night?” Harry asked gently, eyes a little downcast. Malfoy nodded.

“I thought if I could find out who was doing it and how then I could prove my innocence,” he whispered. “And maybe they wouldn't hate me quite so much as they do now. They would have to forgive me if I could prove I was capable of doing good things.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I know what you mean,” he said, nearly hugging himself, but he managed to turn the nervous gesture into a slightly less nervous rubbing of his arms at the last moment. Harry violently shook his mind free of depressing memories and childhood dreams. “Come on. Let's go to bed.”

Draco nodded mutely, following Harry 's gentle tug on the bond. They dressed for bed in silence. The routine was comforting and familiar, soothing the tense atmosphere. When they laid down on their separate beds, Harry did notice that Malfoy was lying facing him instead of away like he usually did. Harry couldn't help but take that as a good sign.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“We couldn't find the book where you said it was, Harry,” Hermione told him the next day at lunch.

Harry looked up, startled. “Are you sure? I swear it was right there. I never even took it off the shelf.”

“We searched, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head. “It wasn't where you said. Just an empty space.”

“It wasn't on the surrounding shelves either,” Hermione chimed in. “I even checked with Madam Pince in case someone checked it out, but she said no one had.”

Harry frowned, his brow crinkling. “Where could it have got to? Or, more likely, who sneaked it out of the library after Malfoy and I left?”

“I hate to interrupt your musings, Potter, but,” Malfoy spoke up, tugging on their bond to get Harry's attention. “You might notice what exactly our bond is made of.”

Harry looked down at the folded parchment. It was slightly yellowed in places and a little crinkled at the edges. In fact, it looked so fragile, like he could tear it apart with the slightest effort. That hadn't worked when he and Malfoy first tried it, though, so there had to be some kind of magic on it. Still, that didn't explain anything.

“What about it?” Harry asked.

“Your superior powers of observation astound me, Potter.” Malfoy sighed. “Look closer.”

Harry did as he was told if only to prove Malfoy was off his rocker. “I don't see anything,” he said. “Just a bunch of random words.”

Indeed, there were dozens of words scrawled all over the parchment. Harry remembered that he had noticed them when he was first bonded to Malfoy. Looking closer, he caught the word _gemstone, Dark Arts,_ and, strangely enough, _medicine._ Malfoy let out an exasperated breath and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“Why me?” He muttered, turning back to the trio of Gryffindors impatiently waiting for an explanation. “The book you were looking for was about gemstones and the Dark Arts, yes?” At Harry's nod, he went on. “It was a two-volume set and, when we each touched a book there was a bright light, we fell unconscious, and woke up bound together with this long strip of parchment with words one might expect to find in a book about Dark Arts and gemstones.”

Harry stared. He knew what Malfoy was implying, but it didn't make any sense. It couldn't make sense. Behind him, Hermione gasped.

“You don't mean–” She started.

“In fact, I do,” Malfoy spoke quietly. “The books themselves have become our bond.”

“Who would want to cast a spell like that on a couple of dusty, old books?” Ron muttered. No one could answer him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry sat at one end of the large table in their private rooms reading the assigned chapter in his DADA textbook and trying his hardest to ignore the other three people in the room.

Malfoy had insisted he needed to spend more time with his friends, saying he was feeling too much Gryffindor rubbing off on him and needed time with his Slytherin mates so he could remember what it was like to be one of them, or something equally stupid. Harry had argued for only ten minutes before giving in on the condition that he be allowed to have his friends over to study with him the next evening. Malfoy had agreed, muttering something about having gotten “used to Weasley and Granger by now.”

Unfortunately for Harry, Malfoy and his friends were impossible to ignore. They chattered constantly, glancing up to see each other's reactions and always fishing for something. The political machinations of only three Slytherins was making Harry twitch and he nearly groaned out loud when he imagined what it would have been like with all of them gathered together in one spot.

“How have you been getting along with our resident Saviour, Draco?” Parkinson simpered, batting her eyes at Malfoy in a manner Harry supposed was meant to be alluring. “Have you tired of him yet?”

Malfoy managed to shrug without actually moving his shoulders in such a low-bred manner. “Potter and I have come to an understanding.”

“Have you now,” Zabini chimed in, brows raised in Harry's general direction. “Looks to me like he just sits there like a Hufflepuff caught on the wrong end of a wand.”

Malfoy looked up, taking in Zabini's gaze and the clenched muscles of Harry's jaw. He probably even noticed the way Harry was grinding his teeth in silent annoyance and decided to head off a possible confrontation.

“Not likely, Blaise,” Malfoy countered, returning to his book as though this conversation wasn't really worth his time and he resented being forced to take part in it. “He's just ignoring us.”

“The great Harry Potter has better things to do than talk to us Slytherins even when he is bonded to one of us?” Parkinson sneered, glaring at Harry who pretended not to notice and turned the page in his book.

“Leave off him, Pansy,” Malfoy sighed exasperatedly. “If he explodes in your face I'm going to be the one who has to clean it up and I really don't have time for that tonight.”

Parkinson sniffed, but changed the subject. “How did it happen anyway, Draco? You only ever told us that you were accidentally bonded to Potter. I want details, darling!”

“Yes, Draco. Give us all the juicy details,” Zabini echoed.

Harry grimaced at the book he was reading. If someone came in from the outside and heard this conversation they would certainly think the four of them were talking about something a lot less innocent than how he and Malfoy had managed to get stuck together. Zabini, especially, seemed to take pride in making his comments as lewd as possible. Harry wondered if the dark-skinned Slytherin was doing it on purpose just to make him uncomfortable.

“There's not much to tell,” Malfoy answered, scratching a few notes on a piece of parchment he had at his elbow. “Potter and I were in the library and reached for the same two books. There was a sudden flash of light and the next thing I knew I woke up on the floor tied to Potter with this.” He raised his arm to show off the manacles, then went back to note-taking.

“What book was it?” Parkinson asked, leaning forward in her seat across from Malfoy.

“Books,” Malfoy repeated, putting particular emphasis on the s sound. “It was a two-volume set. _Gemstones and the Dark Arts_ if I recall correctly.”

Parkinson flinched a little, but Harry was certain he was the only one who noticed. His brow crinkled in confusion as he tried to puzzle out her reaction, but the conversation moved on before he could and Harry was caught up once again in the constant, political chatter.

Bloody hell! Harry couldn't wait until Parkinson and Zabini left and he had Malfoy to himself again. One Slytherin wasn't too bad. But three of them? He was going to have a migraine for the rest of the week.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Boy-Who-Lived Corrupted!**

_A reliable source inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, who wishes to remain anonymous, has reported that none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, spent an evening alone with three notorious Slytherins. Among his evening companions were his accidental bondmate, Draco Malfoy, a former Death Eater. The two were joined by Mr. Malfoy's long-term friends Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini._

_Readers will recall a serious incident during the Final Battle last May when Ms. Parkinson stood up in front of the school's defenders and demanded Harry Potter be handed over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, an action for which she received no reprimand._

_The anonymous source also reported Harry Potter has not spent a similar evening with his own friends from Gryffindor house. Without the balancing influence of fellow war heroes Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger the public has to wonder if their Saviour is being unashamedly corrupted to the Slytherin way of thinking._

_It is certain, however, that his adoring public is concerned for Harry Potter's well-being and want only the best for him. This reporter knows the world will only rest easily when Harry Potter is back where he belongs._

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was seriously starting to worry about his schoolmates. He and Malfoy were heading for the Great Hall for lunch the next day and Harry had counted no less than a dozen students of all ages throwing glares at them. The two of them were due to spend the meal with Malfoy's friends today, but before they managed to make it halfway across the Entrance Hall Ron and Hermione waylaid them.

“You don't want to go in there, mate,” Ron told him, grabbing Harry's elbow and pulling him back the way they had come.

“Wait, why?” Harry protested. “I'm hungry.”

“Please, Harry,” Hermione begged him, casting anxious glances over her shoulder. “You can get something from the house-elves in the kitchens.”

Harry stopped, staring at Hermione in shock. “Okay, now I know something is wrong if you're advocating the use of house-elves, Hermione. What's going on?”

“Going to the kitchens would be a better idea than taking lunch in the Great Hall, Potter,” Malfoy spoke up.

Harry's head snapped around to stare at him. Malfoy had been strangely silent until that moment and refused to look any of them in the eye, not that the Gryffindors were trying all that hard to bring him into the conversation in the first place. Still, Malfoy's reserved behaviour all morning combined with the lack of resistance he was putting up at this break in their routine, plus actually agreeing with a Gryffindor, his childhood rival's friends no less, made Harry suspicious.

“You know something, don't you?” Harry accused Malfoy. The blond didn't answer.

“Just come on, Harry. We'll tell you later,” Hermione compromised. Harry thought it was the best he was going to get, so he allowed them to lead him away.

As they left the sea of hostile stares for the safety of a little-used side corridor Harry wondered if he really wanted to know what had made Hermione's face as pale as death as she stood their urging him to leave.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were ensconced in his and Malfoy's common room. A tray of sandwiches sat on the table the four of them surrounded. Everyone was munching on them, Ron even had two, one in each hand, but Harry found his stomach was too upset to even think of eating anything. He was feeling anxious, imagining every possible bit of bad news he could conceive of.

Finally, he could take the silence no more.

“Alright. What didn't you want to tell me before?” Harry asked, meeting each of their reluctant gazes. He held Malfoy's eyes for an extra beat, feeling inordinately betrayed by the blond.

For long moments no one spoke. Harry was just opening his mouth to repeat his question, with a little more force this time, when Hermione blurted it out.

“The _Prophet_ has written another article about you, Harry.”

He sighed. “That's really nothing new. I'm used to it by now.”

“You may want to read the article before you say that, mate,” Ron commented, eyes downcast. He held out the newspaper.

Harry took it, glancing at the front page where he saw himself. The photo-Harry was wincing and trying his best to duck out of the frame or turn away. Of course, nothing he did hid him from sight. Harry grimaced himself as he watched. He felt rather sorry for the photo-Harry, even as he reminded himself the picture wasn't technically alive.

Then he saw the headline. _Boy-Who-Lived Corrupted!_ screamed from the top of the page in a heavy bold font. Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop away, landing somewhere near his feet. His eyes quickly roved over the page, taking in the words at top speed. By the time he reached the end and looked back up none of his friends would look at him. They must have seen the fury in his eyes long before he finished and turned away to stare at the table. Even Malfoy studied his hands in his lap rather than looking Harry in the eye.

“How did this happen?” Harry demanded.

“We don't know,” Hermione told her lap. “And the _Prophet_ won't tell us who their informant is. I tried, Harry. I really did, but they refused to even write a retraction.”

“It's alright, Hermione,” he sighed. “I know you tried your best.”

She looked at him sadly, but didn't say anything more. Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The subject was dropped and they finished their lunch in silence. Harry was afraid if he were to try to speak he might start screaming and never stop.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After reading that article, the glares seemed even more hostile to Harry. He was constantly staring around him, trying to see where the first attack would come from. The rest of the day passed in that fashion. Around dinner time Malfoy suggested they simply nick some food from the kitchens and hide in their room for the rest of the night. Harry thought his companion must have noticed his behaviour after lunch and decided this was the best option open to them. The Gryffindor just so happened to agree.

That was how they ended up chatting casually for the first time since their bonding. Harry, pleasantly full and turning a bit morose from the stress of the day, finally said the one thing he had been wanting to say to Malfoy for the last two years.

“I'm sorry,” he said, head lolling sideways on the back of the sofa so Harry good focus green eyes on the blond next to him.

Malfoy arched one slim brow. “Sorry for what, Potter?”

“For casting _Sectumsempra_ on you in sixth year.”

Malfoy was silent for long moments. Harry was starting to wonder if bringing up that particular subject might have been a mistake when the blond answered in a quiet voice.

“Don't worry about it. I was going to cast the Cruciatus Curse on you. It was self-defense. Your noble Gryffindor morality is safe.”

Harry sat up, shaking his head and turned to sit sideways on the sofa so he could stare at Malfoy properly. “That doesn't excuse what I did. It was just a spell I found in Snape's old Potions textbook. It just had the incantation and the description 'for enemies' written next to it. I didn't know what it would do. If I had I never would have used it on you,” he explained urgently, bowing his dark head. “You didn't deserve that.”

Malfoy stared at him expressionlessly, finally saying, “You're too honest for your own good, Potter.”

“Maybe I am,” Harry looked up, smiling tentatively. “Does that mean I'm forgiven?”

He tried to inject as much hopefulness in his voice as he could. It must have worked because Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. “Very well. Since there was no permanent damage and you are being ever the Gryffindor, I accept your apology.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a long time after that. Eventually, Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he plowed on.

“What were you doing that day in the bathroom?” He asked, watching the blond out of the corner of his eye.

Malfoy glared at him, but answered anyway. “If you must know, I was having a stressful year. That just happened to be one of many times I spent in that bathroom.”

“But why were you there? Usually no one wants to be around Moaning Myrtle,” Harry persisted. He could tell Malfoy was growing reluctant to talk with him even though he never once opened his mouth to put an end to the conversation.

“She was a sympathetic ear, Potter. I needed someone to talk to who wouldn't go gleefully running to betray me afterward. I had just made another failed attempt to repair the Vanishing Cabinet and I thought for sure the Dark Lord would kill me and my family. Are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing?”

Harry looked away, staring solemnly at his lap. “I don't know. I probably would have, to save my parents.”

Malfoy gave him a sympathetic glance he probably thought Harry wouldn't see, but Harry did see it. He was trying to decide on being grateful or outraged when Malfoy stood abruptly.

“Come on, Potter. It's been a long night. Let's go to bed,” he suggested.

“Harry.”

Malfoy turned to look quizzically at him. “What?”

“My name,” Harry explained. “It's Harry.”

“That is an astonishingly superior observation... Harry,” Malfoy replied, the corners of his lips twitching in a just barely there smile before it vanished into his usual sneer. “I suppose you should call me Draco. Now, let's go to bed.”

“Whatever you say, Draco,” Harry answered with a teasing grin. Draco huffed in annoyance, tugging Harry along by the bond.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The week passed slowly. Harry spent nearly all of it, except for his evenings with Draco, glaring back at all the people who dared look at them with even a smidgen of hostility. He had even had some words for those who would slight Draco verbally within his hearing. The first time Harry defended him like that, Draco spent all of the next class complaining about the encounter in Harry's ear. Harry merely gave him a look and the blond shut up, not bothering to reprimand him for any other spats in the corridors between classes.

Harry was just getting used to the glares and insults shouted in crowded corridors when the hexes started. It was Wednesday when some random seventh year flung a poorly cast Reductor Curse at Draco when their backs were turned. Later, Harry would be thankful that the idiot wasn't able to cast the spell properly and that his aim was wretched, but at the time he nearly flew into a panic.

The spell barely grazed Draco's arm, snapping the bone and spinning him into the wall, taking Harry with him. Immediately, Harry stared around, looking for the culprit, but he had hidden himself in the staring crowd. Ignoring the unsympathetic glares, Harry knelt down to check on the blond, relieved to find him still conscious.

“Draco? Are you alright?” Harry asked, worry plastered all over his face. “Do you need medicine or something?”

Draco gave him a look that said _are you stupid?_ Before proceeding to practically accuse Harry of it with his words. “Medicine? What would I use that for?” He hissed, voice strained from the pain. “Just get me to the Hospital Wing.”

Harry nodded and pulled Draco to his feet, hovering next to him as he forcefully cleared a path in the crowded corridors to allow them through. Madam Pomfrey, when they arrived at the Hospital Wing, gave them a pinched look, but didn't bother asking what had happened. Apparently, she had read that _Prophet_ article too.

McGonagall was called down to the Hospital Wing at some point. She interrogated them ruthlessly, asking question after question until she was sure she had drained every bit of knowledge about the incident from their brains. Harry felt like his had shriveled up in his head by the time she was done. It didn't help his headache when his former Head of House told them there would likely be no way to track down that particular attacker, but she did give them permission to defend themselves if necessary when Harry pressed her.

Harry took his new, self-imposed duty very seriously, defending Draco from any and all threats with the speed and ferocity he had shown in his battles with Voldemort. Draco grumbled about it every time Harry threw up another Shield Charm or yanked him bodily out of the way of a curse, but otherwise let Harry do as he liked. By the weekend, Harry was growing weary of the constant skirmishes in crowded corridors. Countless, mostly innocent, bystanders were sent to the Hospital Wing, though neither he nor Draco ended up there again. When an anonymous student cast a powerful Slicing Hex at Draco during lunch on Saturday that Harry was just barely quick enough to stop, the Gryffindor had decided he had had enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry stormed into the Great Hall, resisting Draco's slight tugs on the bond in an effort to calm him down. The Gryffindor was in no mood for calm at the moment. He dragged Draco with him to the Gryffindor table almost effortlessly and flung himself down on the bench across from Ron. Draco sat down next to him more elegantly, giving Harry a this-is-how-you-should-act glare. Harry ignored him. Hermione sat next to her boyfriend, looking up from her book to give him a quizzical look.

“Someone just tried to hit Draco with a Slicing Hex,” Harry declared.

Hermione dropped her book on the table with a loud thud, hands flying to her mouth in a nearly silent gasp. The words also seemed to attract Ron's attention, who looked up from his food with an expression warring between disbelief and vindication. Apparently, Harry's best friend had still not quite gotten over the years of bullying suffered at Slytherin hands.

“Your superior powers of observation are quite astounding, Potter,” Draco muttered.

“Shut it. I'm not in the mood,” Harry hissed, yanking on the bond in annoyance.

“Oh, Merlin forbid Potter be in the mood!” Draco exclaimed, giving him a rather lecherous look. “I suppose I'll just have to sleep in a dreadfully cold bed tonight.”

Harry blushed and opened his mouth to say he didn't know what, but Hermione interrupted him.

“What about the Slicing Hex? Did either of you get hurt?”

“I am honoured that my good health is foremost in the thoughts of one of the greatest war heroines our generation has ever known,” Draco answered, “but I can assure you that I remain unharmed.”

Nobody paid him any mind, listening to Harry's response instead. Draco snorted and turned his attention to his plate.

“No, I managed to get a Shield Charm up in time, but it was a near thing,” Harry said. He shook his head hard enough to feel his brain sloshing against the sides of his skull. “One of these times I'm going to be just that second too slow and something horrible is going to happen.”

“What else can you do, mate?” Ron pointed out. “You're already doing everything you can.”

“Ron's right, Harry. There's not much else you can do,” Hermione seconded.

“I can do an interview with Skeeter,” Harry said, stubbornly staring his friends down. “In fact, that's what I want to do.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged uncertain glances. “Are you sure, Harry?” Hermione asked cautiously. “You know how much you hate the press.”

Draco's silver eyes glanced up at that. Harry could feel them boring into the side of his face, as though Draco were studying him in an effort to find the answer to a question only he knew. Harry could feel his cheeks heating up at the scrutiny, but refused to back down.

“I'm sure. Will you set it up, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.” She stood and swept out of the Great Hall, probably headed to the Owlery to send Skeeter an owl.

“I think I'll go with her,” Ron muttered, noticing the odd look Draco was still giving Harry. He scrambled after his girlfriend, calling for her to wait for him.

Harry, satisfied that the situation was being taken care of, finally began to pile food on his plate and shovel it into his mouth. He saw Draco wince out of the corner of his eye and could barely keep from snorting a mouthful of mashed potatoes across the table.

“Why would you do that?” Draco's oddly quiet voice asked. Harry paused and looked up at him.

“Do what?”

“Give Skeeter an interview because some idiots are throwing hexes at me in the corridor.”

Harry frowned and put down his fork, looking Draco right in the eye. “Because it's not right. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with it, but, since I can't find them, I'm going to try shaming them instead.”

“Some people would say I was getting what I deserved,” Draco reminded him, avoiding that emerald stare, voice small.

“I'm not one of them,” Harry declared firmly and grasped Draco's wrist. “I don't let anyone hurt my friends, no matter who they are.”

Draco gave him a small smile. It was faint, but it was there, so Harry counted it as a victory and went back to eating. He did make sure to keep an eye on their surroundings in case someone got the bright idea to attack Draco in front of the teachers. No one did.

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
**Harry Potter Speaks Out**   
_By Rita Skeeter_   


_As my regular readers will know, I am always asking our Saviour for interviews and, yet, for personal reasons, he always refuses me. Today, however, he has contacted me of his own free will and offered me an interview on the current happenings at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and his unexpected bond with none other than acquitted Death Eater Draco Malfoy._

_I met with Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy in the sitting room of their private suite. They sat across from me, to all appearances quite comfortable and at ease in the other's presence. In fact, based on previous interviews with the Chosen One and his enduring nervousness at each one, I would dare say that Mr. Potter was much more at ease because of his bondmate's presence._

_After a round of idle pleasantries I got down to the reason for my visit. Here follows a transcript of my conversation with our young hero and his bondmate._

_**RS: You seem much more at ease than the last time we spoke, Mr. Potter. Why is that?**  
HP: I would like to say that I've matured and grown used to being interviewed, but the truth is that I'm only this calm because Draco is here._

_**RS: And why does Mr. Malfoy's presence affect your behaviour?**  
HP: I wouldn't want to act like a total prat in front of my old school rival, now would I?_

_**RS: No, I suppose not. Is that the only reason?**  
HP: I've also recently come to think of Draco as a friend and my friends have always had a calming influence on me. I feel safer with them._

_**RS: I've noticed you have taken to calling Mr. Malfoy by his first name. Does he reciprocate?** _  
_(This was where I was really shocked because, without prompting, Mr. Malfoy spoke up on Mr. Potter's behalf.)_  
 _DM: Of course I do. Aside from the awkwardness factor of my retaining using his last name, I also consider Harry a friend._

_(Now, dear readers, I am ashamed to admit that I sat there gaping like a child when I heard that response. I'm sure none of us would ever have thought the day would come when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy agreed on something, let alone the fact that they were on friendly terms with each other. However, like the true reporter I am, I quickly pulled myself together and continued.)_

_**RS: Now, is this new friendship a result of your unexpected bond?**  
HP: Yes. I don't think either of us would have bothered to try getting along if we hadn't been forced to by the bond._

_**RS: And how has your daily life changed because of the bond?** _  
_HP: It was a little tricky at first, but we've figured out how to do pretty much everything we need to do without constantly getting tangled up in each other. The bond has been helpful, too. It changes it's length when we need it to for convenience's sake._  
 _DM: Yet, somehow, I still nearly get my arm yanked out of its socket on a regular basis._  
 _HP: That's only when you're being a git._

_(I watched as the two young men across from me teased each other with smiles on their faces and friendly shoves. Let me tell you, dear readers, it was a marvelous sight to behold.)_

_**RS: Have either of you had any other difficulties brought about by the bond?** _  
_(Here I saw Mr. Potter's smile fall away, replaced by a dark look that truly shocked me. I couldn't imagine such a strong young man being brought down by anything.)_  
 _HP: We have been having trouble with our classmates._

_**RS: What kind of trouble?** _  
_DM: Just hexes and curses flung about in the corridors. That sort of thing._  
 _(I sat shocked that anyone could brush off such a dreadful occurrence.)_

_**RS: Does it happen often? Were there any serious incidents?** _  
_DM: Nothing too serious._  
 _HP: It happens daily and, yes, there was one serious incident about a week ago. Draco was caught by a Reductor Curse and suffered a broken arm. We were lucky no one else thought to attack while we were heading to the Hospital Wing. After that we had several close calls._

_**RS: And is that why you chose to give an interview? To get your side of the story out in the public?** _  
_HP: I was rather hoping this interview would stop the attacks. You know, since I can prove Draco isn't controlling me with the Imperius or whatever it is they're thinking._  
 _DM: That's asking for a bit much, don't you think, Harry?_

_**RS: It does sound a bit hopeful.**  
HP: I can't help it. It's the only option I have left. Did you know Draco was nearly hit by a Slicing Hex just yesterday?_

_**RS: That is absolutely dreadful! I hope he wasn't seriously injured.** _  
_DM: I wasn't injured at all. Harry managed to deflect the hex before it reached me. The perks of having a brave and noble Gryffindor as a friend._  
 _HP: I was almost too late. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't raised a shield in time._

_**RS: I can see why. Now, we're almost out of time. Is there anything else you would like to say to the public?** _  
_HP: Just that I am not being brainwashed or controlled by Draco or his friends and that I would never allow that to happen anyway. So, please, stop attacking Draco. He hasn't done anything wrong._  
 _DM: I really have nothing to say other than I wish everyone would just mind there own business. It's difficult enough dealing with the stresses of preparing for N.E.W.T.s and being attached to someone constantly without having to worry about getting a curse in the back. Plus, just think how horrible it will be for the Saviour of the Wizarding World to go dragging a rotting corpse around with him for the rest of his life._  
 _HP: DRACO!_

_I left soon after, but my spirit floated on air as I watched these two young men sitting together with clasped hands. There certainly was no more ill will between them. I commented on the change, but they merely smiled at me. If I hadn't known they were born into separate families I would almost have sworn these two were twins. They have managed such a strong bond in so short a time, overcoming years of animosity to reach this point. A miracle if ever there was one._

_And there you have it, dear readers. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy managed to stay in a room with each other and a witness without resorting to flinging spells around. In fact, this reporter feels hopeful for a bright future after speaking with them. If these two former rivals can find a way to get along, then surely the rest of us without such a history can manage to come together in peace and harmony._

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table reading Skeeter's article in the _Prophet._ For the first time in over a week he felt himself smiling. Finally, the press was printing something positive about him and Draco. Above the article, which covered the entirety of the front page with a headline two inches high, was a photo of the two of them sitting on the sofa in their private sitting room. Harry could see himself smiling and glancing shyly at Draco out of the corner of his eye.

Blushing slightly, Harry folded the paper up and sat it down on the table next to his plate. Draco immediately picked it up and started reading the article. Harry found himself hoping the blond didn't notice the picture, but, no, when he looked up Draco was studying the photo above the article. With any luck Harry's odd behaviour in the photo would go unnoticed. Draco didn't mention it when he folded the paper back up, so Harry thought maybe he was off the hook for once in his life.

“She did a good job,” Draco commented, taking a bite of scrambled egg. “I think printing the interview word for word is probably the best thing she could have done. It's a bit difficult to argue with the words of the Saviour.”

Harry rolled his eyes, long since having grown used to Draco using random titles. It got a lot easier to bear once he realized Draco wasn't actually serious when he used them.

“Whatever,” Harry muttered, spooning copious amounts of honey into his porridge.

“It really was a good article, Harry,” Hermione said from the other side of the table, just sitting down with Ron rubbing his eyes behind her.

“Good. It's about time there was some actual truth about this whole thing.”

“What? Are you saying reporters lie, Harry?” Ron joked, stuffing a slice of toast in his mouth whole.

“No, no, not at all.”

“I'm wondering about the fall out,” Hermione interrupted them with a stern glare. “Surely it can't be that easy.”

“Come on, Hermione. Not everything has to have bad results,” Ron waved her concerns away, spraying toast crumbs on the table. Hermione smacked him with a napkin.

“I agree with Granger,” Draco spoke up. “The public isn't just going to roll over and take everything you say as truth, Harry. At least, not the entire public. There are going to be those who just love to have something controversial to fight over and complain about.”

“Why?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Because some people just can't stand how boring their lives are and need to meddle in someone else's to feel alive,” Draco grumbled. Clearly, he found it just as sickening as Harry.

“Speaking of which, here comes the post. Looks like the fall out is starting early today.”

Hermione pointed toward the flurry of owls pouring in to drop off the morning post. A large group of them split off from the rest and headed straight for Harry and Draco. At least half of them Harry could see carried Howlers.

“Great,” Harry muttered not at all enthusiastically.

The owls flew overhead, not even stopping to land and grab a bit of bacon, but just dropping the letters on Harry's plate and flying off again. The Howlers all started smoking at once and Harry quickly started grabbing the normal letters so they wouldn't burn up before he got to read them. Draco sighed and pulled out his wand, flicking it in the direction of the Howlers and making them burst into flame before crumbling to ash and blowing away.

“Thanks,” Harry said. Draco waved him off.

“Don't worry about it. You really should learn how to do that yourself, though.”

Harry shrugged, turning over the first letter on the stack and getting ready to open it when Hermione interrupted him with a pointing finger.

“Harry, what's that?”

She indicated a small package he had almost missed among the pile of letters. Curious, Harry picked it up and unwrapped it. Beneath the plain wrapping was a small, non-descript box. Harry opened it and peered inside. Laying innocuously among what appeared to be tissue paper was a gold ring set with a ruby. The colors reminded him of Gryffindor. A note nestled next to the ring had pretty, loopy handwriting and what appeared to be a pair of lips pressed into the parchment. Harry pulled out the note and read it – _A gift to our Saviour and my personal hero, from a secret admirer._

Harry was just reaching in to lift the ring out when Draco grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“Wait, Harry!”

“What? It's just a ring, Draco,” Harry said, tugging on his arm, but Draco wouldn't let him go.

“It's a ruby ring,” Draco pointed out. “And all the coma victims were found clutching rubies.”

Hermione gasped. “He's right, Harry. You probably shouldn't touch it.”

“Why would someone send me a cursed ring?” Harry frowned down at it.

“I don't know,” Hermione shook her head and held out her hand. “Give it to me and I'll see what I can find out about it.”

Harry handed the ring over, box and all, and Hermione tucked it into her bag. They sat in silence for several long minutes listening to the drone of conversation all around them. Eventually, Ron started a conversation about the Chudley Cannons' chances at the World Cup and sufficiently distracted everyone at the table. The pile of letters lay forgotten next to Harry's plate.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry and Draco sat at the larger table studying as per usual. Sometimes Harry was surprised at how quickly they had formed a routine, but he supposed a set schedule was easier to deal with than constantly fighting. Out of the blue, Harry sat up straight, turning his head to look at Draco, who hadn't seemed to notice his roommate's sudden distraction.

“Did I say thank you for earlier?” Harry asked into the silence. Draco looked up from his book, eying him.

“For what?”

“Stopping me from touching that ring,” Harry reminded him, thinking it was rather obvious. There had been no other trouble that day, fortunately.

“No, you did not,” Draco answered. He sounded as if he was just stating a fact and couldn't care about Harry's manners either way. Harry frowned.

“Then I'm saying it now. Thank you, Draco.”

Draco studied him for a moment, then nodded acknowledgment. “You're welcome,” he said and paused with his mouth open. Harry waited, wondering if he was going to say anything else. Finally, Draco gathered his courage and asked whatever question had been on his mind. “Why did you try to touch it? You didn't know who it came from and I can't imagine you never get something malicious in the post. Don't you take precautions?”

Harry thought for a moment. “I think I was just excited. I've never gotten a gift for no reason before. It was kind of nice.”

Now it was Draco's turn to frown. “You've never received presents just because before?”

“I never got presents at all,” Harry told him matter-of-factly. “Well, I never got any proper presents. Not until Hogwarts anyway.”

“What?”

“My relatives didn't like me very much,” Harry shrugged. “It's nothing, really.”

Draco looked like he thought it was definitely not nothing. In fact, he looked down right horrified. “No presents at all? Not even for Christmas or your birthday?”

“I got a hanger one year. Toothpicks another. And a pair of my uncle's old socks,” Harry counted the items off on his fingers.

“That is absolutely terrible,” Draco said. Harry shrugged at him again.

“It's in the past now. I've gotten much better presents since I came to Hogwarts. Hagrid even put together a photo album filled with pictures of my parents for me at the end of first year.”

Draco didn't look appeased in the slightest. Apparently, one good present couldn't make up for an entire childhood of bad ones in his opinion. Harry shrugged – he was doing that a lot tonight – and turned back to his parchment where he was writing a two-foot essay on the properties of shredded boomslang skin and how it affected certain potions.

“So, that ring, is it really the only spontaneous gift you've received?” Draco asked. His voice was quiet now, almost gentle.

“Aside from my photo album, yes,” Harry answered, not taking his attention from his essay. “Hey, do you think the _Prophet_ will print some stupid story about that ring tomorrow?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I was rather hoping they wouldn't. I'm tired of seeing myself in the paper.”

“There's always the chance that they missed the commotion,” Draco offered helpfully. Buried deep in Draco's voice, Harry thought he heard a hint of a smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**The Boy-Who-Lived Has Secret Admirer**

_Confidential sources within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry report that none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has found himself a secret admirer._

_Monday morning, Mr. Potter received a small gift which garnered much exclamation among his fellow Gryffindors. Sources say the gift was a gold ring set with a ruby to symbolize Mr. Potter's house loyalties and heroic attributes. It was also said that Mr. Potter's bondmate, Draco Malfoy, became enraged at the small token and tried to take it from Mr. Potter only for Mr. Potter's friends to retrieve the ring and hide it away for safe-keeping._

_This encounter came as quite a shock to the Saviour's loyal followers as, that very same morning, an interview with Mr. Potter had been published declaring his friendship with Mr. Malfoy._

_We now have to wonder if that article was staged and, if so, to what purpose? Neither Mr. Potter nor Mr. Malfoy could be reached for comment. The public will certainly be demanding answers in these trying times. The safety of our hero is forefront in our thoughts._

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had tried his best to ignore the _Prophet_ 's most recent article. Sure, he had raged about it when it was first printed the day after his own interview, even going so far as to point out that the article mentioned nothing about the similarities between his ring and the rubies found with the coma victims. His friends all agreed with him that it was unfair and wrong, but there was nothing more they could do.

The brief respite Harry's interview had given him and Draco from their attackers ended almost as quickly as it began. As soon as the ring article had come out, people were flinging curses at Draco again in a misguided effort to protect Harry. It had grown so bad that McGonagall had granted them permission to have their assignments delivered to them by Ron and Hermione and excused them from classes until the situation could be resolved. They did, of course, have free range of the castle and grounds, which he and Draco took advantage of when the rest of the school was in class.

They still took meals in the Great Hall, but mostly stayed at the Gryffindor table. Harry had felt badly about this at first, thinking he was preventing Draco from spending time with his Slytherin friends, but when he brought it up Draco brushed him off. Eventually, they came to an agreement where Draco's friends would study in the library with them during free periods and spend one afternoon a week in Harry and Draco's private rooms. So Harry didn't have to feel too badly after all.

A couple weeks after Harry's interview with Skeeter, Hermione came bouncing up to the Gryffindor table and plopped down across from Harry and Draco, her eyes bright with success. Harry looked up immediately, curious, and elbowed Draco in the side when he proved too slow to respond and it was obvious Hermione was waiting for his attention.

“I found something!” She exclaimed in a whisper.

“What did you find?” Harry asked just as excitedly. Draco merely looked on with a bored expression plastered on his face. However, Hermione was not to be deterred.

“I think I have an idea what kind of spell was put on the ring,” she said and then just stopped. Harry nearly growled with frustration when Ron spoke up impatiently.

“Well? Don't keep us in suspense, Hermione!”

“It seems to be some sort of Sleeping Charm, but, and here's the really interesting part, it only appears to affect males.”

Harry sat up, brow wrinkling in confusion. “But why would somebody want to put all the blokes in the school to sleep?”

Hermione shrugged. “No idea, but that's what it does. I'm sure of it.”

“I think maybe we should turn it over to McGonagall,” Harry thought out loud.

“What?!” Ron shouted, but quieted down when the other three glared at him. “What?” He repeated more quietly.

“We can't really do much else with it,” Harry said. “The books on gemstones are these origami manacle things now. Plus, it's a clue to whoever has been attacking students.”

“I think you're right, Harry,” Hermione chimed in. “Professor McGonagall should know about this.”

“Alright, fine,” Ron acquiesced, but he looked far from happy about it. “Let's turn it over to McGonagall. It can be her problem for once.”

“Good! I'm glad that's settled,” Hermione declared as though the whole thing had been her idea to begin with. “I'll give it to her after lessons this afternoon.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The weeks passed uneventfully. Harry and Draco spent most of their time working on their various assignments, studying for their N.E.W.T.s, and getting to know each other even better. There was one eventful day when they went out to the Quidditch pitch and decided to attempt a broom ride. Harry, deciding it would be much too dangerous to try flying separately thanks to their bond, convinced Draco to ride with him.

Their ride brought back difficult memories. As soon as they were up in the air Harry remembered that mad flight from a burning Room of Requirement with Draco clinging to his waist as they dove for the diadem. Harry could almost feel the heat of the flames all around him, but the most persistent feeling was the squeeze of Draco's arms around his waist. This time, however, it evoked a more affectionate reaction instead of panic. Harry almost felt as though he could turn around in Draco's arms and kiss him, broom or no broom.

Needless to say, neither of them ever suggested going flying while still bonded again. Harry, after that little adventure, spent a lot more time than usual stealing glances at Draco and admiring him when he thought the blond wasn't looking. If he had been more concerned with what other people thought of him, Harry might have been worried about his sudden Draco fascination, but he was too distracted by his bondmate to care. Besides, Draco really was beautiful. They couldn't blame him for looking.

~*~*~*~*~*~

That afternoon Harry received an owl from McGonagall asking him and Draco to see her in her office immediately. Groaning, Harry showed the note to Draco and stood, stretching out his stiffening muscles from where he had sat bent over the parchment.

“Right now? That's a bit of a short notice,” Draco commented.

“I wonder what it's for,” Harry replied, moving to the door.

“I suppose we'll find out.”

Harry nodded and led the way to McGonagall's office. He gave the password to the griffin guarding the entrance, stepping onto the moving spiral staircase it concealed with Draco right beside him. They rode up in silence. Harry knocked on the door when they reached the top and pushed it open when he was given permission.

Five people were seated about the room. Harry noted with some surprise that Ron and Hermione perched in high-backed chairs in front of the headmistress' desk where Professor McGonagall sat with hands folded on the desktop. To the side of her desk sat Professor Trevane and Professor Flitwick.

“Come in and take a seat, gentlemen,” McGonagall greeted them. They did so, sitting in the two open chairs next to Ron and Hermione.

“Why did you want to see us, Professor?” Harry asked.

“We have discovered something about the ring you received, Mr. Potter, that we thought you ought to know. And, of course, since Miss Granger was the one who brought it to our attention, we thought she should be allowed to hear our findings as well.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the headmistress. “That doesn't explain what Weasley and I are doing here,” he pointed out.

“You, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said sternly, staring over the tops of her spectacles at him, “are here because you are bonded to Mr. Potter and, thus, must go where he does. Mr. Weasley is here simply because he will be told the details later anyway and, this way, he gets to hear them first-hand. It was decided speaking to all four of you at once would be the best way to keep you out of too much trouble.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but subsided, slumping back in his seat and assuming his standard bored expression. McGonagall turned away from him and focused on Harry and Hermione.

“Now, Miss Granger, your theory wasn't far off from the truth. We have found that the ruby in the ring, and the other rubies from the victims, were imbued with a modified Infatuation Charm.”

“An Infatuation Charm?” Hermione repeated, leaning eagerly forward in her chair. “But what does that have to do with the comas?”

It was Flitwick's turn to speak up in his squeaky voice. “We discovered that it was incorrectly modified. So, while the gender-specific parts of the spell held up under the stress of an incorrect modification, the original intent of the spell was changed.”

“Instead of throwing the victim into a haze of infatuation with the girl who gave him the gem, as we think was originally intended, the spell overwhelmed it's victims and threw them into a magical coma instead,” Trevane explained. “Fortunately, the spell itself is not malicious and the victims should be perfectly fine once they wake up.”

“So, they can be cured now?” Hermione asked. “I mean, the spell can be reversed now since you know what it is. Right?”

“Unfortunately, Miss Granger, it is not that simple,” McGonagall said gently.

Trevane took over the explanation again. “We know what kind of spell was used, but we don't know how it was modified and we need to know that before we can reverse the effects.”

“If we find the person who modified the spell in the first place then we should be able to reverse it,” Flitwick spoke up.

“Until then, I'm afraid those students in a coma will just have to wait a while longer.”

Hermione looked rather glum for a moment before she sat up straight like she had been shocked by a bolt of lightning. “Harry!” She nearly shouted, snapping her head around to look at him. “Do you still have that note that came with the ring?”

“Er... yeah. Why?”

McGonagall was watching them curiously, but she did not interrupt as Hermione chattered on excitedly.

“Can I borrow it? I have a theory I would like to test out.”

“Sure, it's in my bag back in my room, though.”

“That's okay. I'll come with you to collect it,” she said, barely seeming to register that she had spoken and already standing up to leave. McGonagall smiled.

“I see that you four have some studying to do. You may go, but keep me apprised of the situation,” she dismissed them.

“Of course, Professor,” Harry said, standing and following Ron and Hermione out the door.

When they were out of the headmistress' office, Draco yanked him close by the bond and hissed in his ear.

“Why do you still have that note?”

Harry shrugged. “The writing looked familiar. I was trying to figure out where I knew it from.”

Draco didn't look convinced, but Harry couldn't reassure him any further. What he had said was the truth and his bondmate would just have to learn to live with that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

This time they were at dinner when Hermione came up to them with her latest discovery. She was more subdued than when she ran up to them several weeks ago and told them she had figured out the spell placed on the ring. Unlike last time, however, this time she was waving the note in front of their faces and flashing them a wide, triumphant grin.

“I figured it out,” she stated, eyes shining with victory.

“Figured what out, Hermione?” Harry asked her. He didn't seem very excited about it either, though Hermione didn't appear to notice. Apparently, she had enough excitement for all four of them.

“I found a spell that should tell us who sent you the note.”

Harry looked up at that, shepherd's pie forgotten. “Do you know who it is?”

“Not yet, I thought it would be a good idea for all of us to be there to perform the spell,” Hermione explained.

“So, when are we doing it?” Ron asked impatiently after swallowing a large bite of chicken.

At this Hermione looked a bit sheepish, staring holes into the table and letting her hair fall into her face to hide her blush.

“I may have already sent an owl to Professor McGonagall and she sent one back inviting us to perform the spell in her office after dinner.”

Ron gaped at her, mouth hanging open and mercifully empty. Draco was, as usual, ignoring all of them. He seemed to think none of the happenings between the three Gryffindors had anything to do with him. Harry wished he would participate more, but realized trying to force him would likely not end well all around. Instead, he spoke for both of them.

“It seems we don't have a choice. We'll head to McGonagall's office as soon as dinner is over. Might as well get this done with,” Harry said. Hermione beamed at him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

McGonagall's office was a lot less crowded this time around. Aside from the three Gryffindors and a Slytherin there was only the headmistress herself. She sat behind her desk, watching them over the rims of her spectacles. After gesturing the four to a group of empty chairs before her desk, McGonagall stood, staring down her nose at them.

“I understand you have found a way to find the person responsible for these comas?”

Hermione sat up straight at once, eagerness written all over her face as she launched into her lecture. “Not quite,” she explained. “I found a way to track the person who sent Harry the note, but she's not necessarily the same person who bewitched the rubies.”

“She? And how do you know this person is female?” McGonagall asked, latching on to the seemingly most trivial detail in Hermione's explanation. Hermione, however, didn't seem to think it trivial at all and actually smiled when asked the question.

“The mark left on the note,” Hermione said, pausing dramatically. “It's a muggle thing that girls used to do when they wrote letters to a crush. It's called a S.W.A.K.”

Both Ron and Draco turned to stare at her. Draco had arched one brow, but Ron was the one who said what Harry could see they were both thinking.

“Swak? That sounds like they're hitting somebody.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It's an acronym, Ron. It stands for sealed with a kiss.”

“They kissed the parchment? Why would someone do that?” It was Draco who spoke up this time. He looked a little disgusted by the very idea. “That is absolutely undignified.”

“Girls aren't usually concerned with dignity when they're chasing a boy,” Hermione pointed out. “I think it's supposed to be a sign of affection. It's rather common among younger girls.”

“And you believe you can trace the person who left that... mark?” McGonagall asked, hesitating slightly before the word _mark_.

“Yes. Muggles do it all the time, though they usually use science and left over traces of DNA,” Hermione explained, going into full-on lecture mode.

“We don't have anything like that here, Hermione,” Harry interrupted her. She gave him an annoyed look.

“Well, of course not! That's why I did some research in the library,” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who grinned in commiseration, “and found a spell that should do something similar.”

“You're going to trace someone's DNA using magic?” Ron asked, skeptical.

“No, I'm going to trace their magical signature using magic,” Hermione declared triumphantly.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense,” Ron muttered. She glared at him.

“It should work. A witch or wizard's magical signature is like their DNA, unique. Traces of a person's magical signature can even be left in bits of themselves they leave behind, like bodily fluids. Specifically, the saliva your secret admirer left behind on your note Harry.”

All three men in the room made disgusted faces, even Draco dropped his dignified act to join in. Harry thought he understood why Draco had found the act of kissing parchment revolting before. Thinking about someone else's spit on a note he received was starting to make him want to vomit.

“That's just gross, Hermione,” Ron said, making gagging noises behind his hand.

“Oh, grow up! All of you!”

“Sorry, Hermione, but Ron is right. That's disgusting,” Harry spoke up.

“I hate to agree with any of you, especially Weasley, but the truth is the truth.”

Ron looked vaguely surprised to hear Draco agreeing with him, but quickly recovered and gave Hermione a look that said, “See? Even the git agrees with me and we never agree on anything, so I must be right.”

“That is enough,” a stern voice broke in, startling the four of them. Hermione looked smug when she realized it was McGonagall coming to her rescue. “Our feelings on the matter aside, Miss Granger raises a valid point. I want this spell performed as soon as possible. When can you be ready, Miss Granger?”

Hermione smiled, full of an eager intensity Harry rarely saw in her except when she was about to confront a challenge head-on and had every intention of conquering it. “Immediately,” she said.

“Very well, let us begin.”

McGonagall cleared off a spot on her desk at Hermione's request. Hermione was already pulling out a piece of parchment, a quill, a bottle of black ink, and the note Harry had received with the ring. She laid them down carefully on the desk, arranging them in a very specific order.

The blank parchment was placed flat on the desk with the note laying innocently on the top half of the parchment. A thin border ran all the way around the note like it had been glued on to the parchment for insertion into a scrapbook. There was even a large swath of blank parchment beneath the note for someone to write a description on or, Harry thought, maybe the name of the sender.

The quill was dipped into the ink, which was set aside, and placed, point down, on the blank part of the parchment as if Hermione were about to write something. Instead of forming a letter, though, she just left it there, waving her wand and muttering Steti to make it balance there on its tip. No ink dripped from the quill to mar the parchment either. It was as if they were waiting for something.

That something revealed itself in the form of Hermione standing back and raising her wand to point at the note, speaking the incantation she had found in a firm, clear voice. “ _Comperio et fateor_.”

The S.W.A.K. on the note began to glow a brilliant yellow, obscuring it's original reddish color. As they watched the light from the S.W.A.K. grew brighter and seemed to reach out toward the waiting quill. Vibrating almost impatiently, the quill made a slight jerking motion then began to glide across the parchment, never stopping, not even to refill its supply of ink, which appeared to suddenly be never ending.

Finally, the light just ceased to be, winking out like it had never been there in the first place. With the vanishing of the light, the quill also fell, leaving a long, jagged line across the parchment. Leaning in eagerly to survey her handy work, Hermione took one look at the name and turned a smug grin on Harry.

“You'll never guess who your secret admirer is, Harry,” she teased.

Curious, Harry leaned over the parchment to read the name as well. What he saw made his breath hitch and draw to a stop in his chest. There, written in the same hand as the original note, was a name he had hoped never to hear, or see, again. In shining black ink he read the name emblazoned on the parchment out loud for everyone to hear: _Romilda Vane_.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They waited until the next afternoon to call Romilda Vane to the headmistress' office and confront her with the evidence they had uncovered. She seemed surprised when McGonagall summoned her, but hid it well behind a mask of bold indifference. She didn't say anything, not even when she noticed Harry and Draco in the room, though her eyes did linger a little longer on Harry, which made him shudder. She smiled when she saw that and Harry had to work hard not to allow the revulsion to show on his face.

“Miss Vane, do you know why you are here?” McGonagall asked. She shook her head. “You are here because I have a few questions for you concerning the recent attacks on male students.”

Vane's expression fell, but she quickly brought the mask back up. The moment's slip was enough for Harry, though. He knew in that moment that she had something to do with the attacks.

“I didn't have anything to do with that!” She cried, her mouth snapping closed with a click of teeth when she realized her defiant denial had, in fact, condemned her.

“Miss Vane, we have evidence that you sent a cursed ring to Mr. Potter similar to the gemstones found with the victims,” McGonagall informed her.

Vane sat very still, barely even breathing. Harry could see that she knew she was caught. He could also see the wheels in her brain turning as she searched for a way out of her predicament. Deciding to head her off before she came up with a half-way decent plan, Harry spoke.

“Why did you do it, Romilda?” He asked softly, hesitating before using her first name. He could feel Draco tense next to him, but the blond didn't say anything.

Romilda's gaze focused on him, tears welling up in her dark eyes. “I just wanted you to notice me,” she said through quiet hiccoughs. “That's all. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

She was crying now, not even noticing, or caring, that no one in the room felt any sympathy for her. Vane sat wringing her hands in her lap and staring at the floor. No one went over to comfort her, not even Harry, though he did feel a slight twinge of guilt at causing her this embarrassment.

“How did you modify the spell, Miss Vane?” McGonagall asked briskly. She was staring down her nose at Vane in a way even Harry found intimidating. Vane looked up, caught the stare, and gasped.

“I- I didn't,” she stammered. “It was Mandy Brocklehurst. She wanted to experiment with gems and I overheard her in the bathroom muttering to herself about it one day. So I suggested we work together because I had an idea of what spell she could use and even make some gold off it to continue experimenting. She agreed and that was that. I only sold the gems. I didn't bewitch them, I swear!”

After several minutes of reassuring her that she would not be expelled or given over to the Aurors, McGonagall got Vane to calm down enough to ascertain a few more minor details. She told Vane to sit there and wait while she sent for Brocklehurst. An owl was dispatched immediately while McGonagall turned her attention back to Vane, giving Harry and Draco a significant look in the process.

“I just have one more question for you, Miss Vane,” McGonagall said. Vane hiccoughed in response. “Did you cast the spell to bind Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy together?”

Harry looked up in surprise, unaware that McGonagall had been entertaining the idea. Judging from the slight jerking motion he could see Draco making out of the corner of his eye, the Slytherin hadn't thought about it either. Something about it didn't feel right to Harry, though. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, telling him that didn't sound plausible. Then Vane spoke up, giving his doubtful thought conviction.

“Of course not!” She shouted, tears drying in tracks on her cheeks. “I wanted his attention. Why would I bind him to someone else?”

McGonagall seemed to accept that answer, not bothering to ask if Brocklehurst might have done it. She probably thought Vane would have mentioned that if she thought her partner-in-crime capable of such a thing. So, with an answer to one of the year's mysteries in hand, the headmistress dismissed Harry and Draco with assurances that she and the other teachers would ascertain the details of Brocklehurst's modifications to her Infatuation Charm and use the information to reverse the effects. McGonagall was hopeful all the victims would make a full recovery.

Harry thanked her for her help and left, Draco close on his heels. He couldn't wait to get back to their rooms. It had been a long day and Harry was more than tired of dealing with crazy fangirls and malicious mysteries. Right at that moment all Harry wanted was to curl up on the sofa with Draco and talk like they usually did. With that thought, Harry urged them on faster, eager to get to the stretch of wall concealing their private rooms.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry curled himself into a corner of the sofa, feet tucked up under him and arms braced on his knees so as not to tug on Draco uncomfortably. Draco was sitting next to him, book in hand and straight-backed like the proper young gentleman he had been raised to be. It was infuriating for Harry to just sit there and watch the beautiful blond, but that's what he did. He was still too nervous to actually talk to Draco about the things on his mind swirling around like a mist, obscuring any other thoughts.

Finally tired of feeling those emerald eyes on him, Draco put his book down and turned to face Harry. “What is it, Harry? Working on those superior powers of observation again? I know I'm handsome, but really, too much staring is not good for the skin.”

Harry flushed, tearing his gaze away and focusing it on his lap. He idly tangled his fingers together and untangled them just for something to distract him from Draco's intense, questioning gaze. The Gryffindor found he was experiencing a very un-Gryffindor-like spout of bashfulness and it was wreaking havoc on his nerves.

“Erm... It's nothing. Just looking, that's all,” Harry muttered, hoping Draco would just drop the subject. Draco didn't.

“Was it the fangirls?” Draco prodded, almost literally poking him in the arm. “Because I find them dreadfully detestable.”

Harry smiled, allowing himself to laugh a little at Draco's lightly teasing tone. He knew the blond was serious about his opinion, though he said it in such a way as to give Harry some amusement. Harry was grateful for Draco's thoughtfulness even as it made his heart flutter in his chest.

“No, not the fangirls, though I do agree with you on that,” Harry answered, still smiling.

Draco, however, had switched to a perplexed frown. “Then what is it?”

Harry stared off into the distance, gathering his courage. Should I tell him? What if he rejects me? The thoughts spun through his head, making him both nervous and dizzy. Harry almost felt like vomiting and only did not because he thought it might put Draco off him even more.

“Harry?” Draco asked uncertainly. “What is it?”

Harry gave his head a shake to clear it. _I was Sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. Time to stop thinking and just charge in. What's the worst that could happen?_

 _He could eviscerate you,_ a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like the shade of Tom Riddle from the diary.

 _At least it will be better than this uncertainty,_ Harry told that voice. _I'll know, one way or the other._

Harry took a deep breath and finally met Draco's concerned gaze. “Draco, I think I'm having second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts about what?”

“About the bond.”

Draco arched a single brow, looking at Harry with an indulgent grin. “It's a bit late for that now, Harry. We're already bonded.”

“That's not what I meant,” Harry shook his head. “I meant that I might not want to reverse the bond anymore. Now that we're friends I don't mind being around you so much.”

There was a long silence following that statement, long enough for Harry to grow worried enough to chance a peek at the blond. What he saw nearly made his heart stop in mid-beat. Draco was watching him with shining silver eyes and a brilliant smile.

“I think I might agree with you, Harry,” Draco said softly, leaning ever-so-slightly closer. 

Without thinking about it, Harry mimicked him, stretching out his feet to the floor and leaning closer to Draco. His heart was hammering in his chest and his breath came in short gasps as he drew ever nearer to the blond.

“Draco...” Harry murmured. Draco shushed him gently, one pale hand sliding up his arm and settling his fingers against Harry's neck, stroking absentmindedly. 

“Hush, Harry.”

Draco leaned in and kissed him, gently at first, then more insistent. Harry made a low keening sound in his throat, pressing closer to the blond. One arm came up to wrap around Draco's waist, pulling him tight to the Gryffindor's side. He could feel Draco's fingers tangling in the fine hairs at his nape.

The moments seemed to pass in an instant yet carry on forever. All too soon they had to part for air. Draco pulled away to breathe, staring into Harry's eyes as Harry panted for his own breath. The blond's eyes were wide and his breathing just a little harsher than his usual calm breath. Harry briefly wondered if their kiss had surprised him that much. It shouldn't have, since he was the one who had initiated it, but the blond was an enigma and Harry couldn't be sure. Until...

“Harry, the bond,” Draco whispered, his arms around Harry's neck tightening.

“What about it?” Harry asked, allowing his grip on Draco's waist to tighten as well. His thumbs making gentle circular motions on the blond's hips.

“Look closely. What are we doing?”

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. “We're sitting on the sofa.”

“Yes, with our arms wrapped around each other,” Draco pointed out.

“I don't see what that has to do with anything.”

“The bond. It's not restricting our movement. It's...”

“Gone,” Harry finished, holding up his left arm to inspect the sudden lack of folded parchment around his wrist. He pulled Draco's right arm from around his neck and checked the blond's wrist as well. Draco was right. The bond was gone. Harry felt a pang of loss, but pushed it away.

“What does this mean?” Draco thought out loud.

“I don't know,” Harry answered, pressing a kiss to Draco's palm. “We'll go see Pomfrey in the morning. In the meantime, it's been a long day. I think we should go to bed.”

Draco's lascivious grin made Harry blush lightly, though he refused to look away from that sparkling gaze. “Wanting to take me to bed already, Potter? How very forward of you.”

“They say it's my most charming feature,” Harry shot back. Draco smiled.

“I think they might be right.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“When did this happen, boys?”

They sat on the same bed in the Hospital Wing while Madam Pomfrey fussed over them. She had her wand drawn and was casting so many diagnostic charms that Harry, with more than his share of time in the Hospital Wing, had stopped recognizing half an hour ago. She was asking questions too, but those Harry felt uncomfortable with.

He blushed and stared at the sterile tile floor, wishing she would just finish with her examination and let them go. Fortunately, Draco spoke up for the both of them.

“Last night,” he answered, sounding perfectly calm and in control, like this was a normal, everyday occurrence. Harry envied him that ability to act like the unusual was nothing but the usual.

“And what were you doing when the bond dissolved?” Pomfrey questioned. Harry sighed, knowing it would be unfair of him to make Draco answer this question as well. Plus, Draco's cheeks were tinted just the faintest pink. The blond's embarrassment gave Harry the courage he needed to speak past his own discomfort.

“I kissed him and afterward the bond was gone,” Harry told her, absurdly proud that his voice remained level.

“Well,” Madam Pomfrey spoke in a slightly breathless voice that was nevertheless matter-of-fact. Harry wondered what that meant. “I can see no negative effects left over from the bond. It appears to have just run its course. I suspect, perhaps, that a showing of intimacy between the bonded pair was the main goal behind it. You should be safe to go your separate ways, but come to me at once if you experience any unusual symptoms. Am I understood?”

Both boys nodded and she dismissed them with the promise that McGonagall would be hearing about their new separated status. Harry missed all of that, standing and following Draco out of the Hospital Wing on autopilot. He was much more concerned with what would happen between him and Draco now.

They walked through the corridors together until they came to the stairs. Harry paused, watching Draco walking down them as though nothing had ever happened between them. He couldn't stand that and it took him watching Draco leaving him behind to remember that he didn't have to stand idly by and wait for things to happen to him. Harry had never liked waiting and he wouldn't start now. He was always more for the charge-in-fighting-and-make-things-go-the-way-he-wanted approach.

“Draco,” Harry called out to his former bondmate. The blond turned around, watching him with a wary eye. “What happens now?”

“I don't know.”

“I don't want to lose you, Draco,” Harry said. He could almost feel how much Draco wanted to sneer at Harry's heart displayed so obviously on his sleeve.

“And you think that if you're determined enough we can stay together? It's not that easy, Harry,” Draco said sadly. He even looked away from the Gryffindor, unable to meet the emerald gaze.

“I do.”

Harry could tell the statement shocked Draco to the core. It must be hard to be so unsure of yourself when you're staring down someone else with a certainty unmatched by anyone. He was sympathetic, sure, but Harry wouldn't let that stop him from pushing his advantage.

“Harry, it can't work between us. Even if I hadn't been on the wrong side of the war, we were Sorted into different Houses. And not just different Houses, but _rival_ Houses. We've been competing and fighting with each other since the day we met on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Maybe it's time that rivalry changed, Draco,” Harry murmured. “Time to show the wizarding world that not everyone not on the right side of the war is evil. What better way than to show them a happy relationship between two long-term rivals turned lovers?”

“It sounds very romantic, Harry, but we live in the real world, not some fairy tale where everything works out in the end for the hero because he fought for the greater good and survived.” Draco was practically shouting at him now, still in hushed tones so as not to bring the professors or any wandering ghosts down on their heads, but he was obviously frustrated at their situation. “No one would dare say you didn't deserve your happy ending, but it can't be with the story's villain. It just doesn't work that way. You're supposed to get the girl, Harry. That's how the story ends.”

Harry's eyes narrowed, anger sparking in the verdant depths. “I've never much cared for the set storyline,” he declared. “I prefer to walk my own path and that path leads to you.”

“And what about your friends, Harry? _My_ friends?”

“They'll come around when they see how happy we are and if they don't they're not real friends.”

“The press, then? The public? Hell! Anyone who thinks they own a part of their Saviour?”

“The press has never managed to influence me before and I can fight them if they try. The public doesn't have a say in any aspect of my life, especially not who I choose to spend my life with. No one owns any part of me, Draco, except the people who I willingly give away pieces of myself and I trust those people with my life and, in your case, my heart,” Harry told him, wondering if he was being too emotional for persuading Draco, but decided he didn't care in the next moment.

Draco watched him with wide eyes. “You really believe it's that simple?”

“Of course I do. Anything is possible if you just try,” Harry said, grinning in a self-deprecating way. “Just look at me. I wouldn't be here if that wasn't true.”

The blond watched him for long moments. At one point Harry thought he saw the glimmer of tears in those silver eyes, but dismissed it almost immediately. Draco would never cry over something so sappy. Finally, Draco climbed the few steps between them, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and drawing him close.

“You realize there will be a lot of people demanding my blood for being a former Death Eater daring to whisk away their Saviour?” Draco asked. Harry smiled at him.

“Don't worry. I'll protect you,” Harry murmured, hot breath ghosting across one pale ear.

Harry kissed Draco, then, long and slow with arms wrapped around the other boy's waist. They stood that way for what felt like hours, but was likely mere minutes as they weren't interrupted by a stampede of students traveling to lessons. Some time later Harry pulled back just far enough so he could look at Draco in his arms. His eyes searched the Slytherin's face, looking for a very specific answer. Unable to find it, Harry decided to just ask.

“Draco?”

“Hm?”

“What made you change your mind about giving us a shot?” Harry asked.

“What makes you think I changed my mind? Maybe I think you're still mad for even suggesting it,” Draco responded, the teasing smirk on his face clearly audible in his voice.

“You had better have changed your mind or I might have to push you down these stairs.”

“That wouldn't be very chivalrous of you, Harry.”

“Draco,” Harry's voice was deadly serious. This was important to him and he knew Draco knew that. The blond sighed.

“I remembered that day when the Snatchers brought you to the Manor.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don't you remember? I couldn't give you up even to my father. He practically begged me to say it was you and I couldn't do it. Didn't you ever wonder why I lied?” Draco asked. Harry frowned thoughtfully.

“I did, but I just assumed later that you were too scared to admit it was me.”

“So you did know.”

“Yes, I knew you knew it was me,” Harry admitted. “It was written all over your face.”

“Good thing my father and aunt didn't notice.”

“Yeah. But I still don't understand what that has to do with today.”

Draco clutched at him tighter, burying his face in Harry's neck. “By that point I knew. I knew that you were our only hope. If I was to have any chance of getting my family and myself through the war alive I had to make sure you were free to kill the Dark Lord. So, I lied.”

“You lied to help me because of the slim chance that I would somehow manage to kill the man threatening you?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes.” It was a simple answer, but it nearly laid Harry flat on his back with the shock, and likely would have if not for Draco holding onto him so tightly.

“That is... amazing...”

There was really no other word to describe it. Harry was in awe of Draco's courage and faith in him during such a desperate time. Draco, though, didn't seem to agree with that sentiment.

“If you say so,” Draco muttered. “Besides, any man capable of defeating a Dark Lord at such terrible odds must certainly be able to fend off a few rabid fangirls attacking his new boyfriend.”

Harry smiled, giving Draco a light squeeze and a kiss behind the ear. “I'll make sure you stay safe, Draco. After all, that's one of the positives of having a Gryffindor boyfriend. We don't let any harm ever come to our lovers.”

“Ah, so it's a Gryffindor thing?” Draco teased.

“Yeah. You know, nobility and chivalry and all that.”

“Those all sound very romantic. Honestly, though? It's the 'all that' part that I'm looking forward to the most.”

Harry chuckled. Yes, he would make sure their relationship was a long and happy one no matter the cost because, right now, in this moment, he couldn't imagine spending his life with anyone else.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Coma Victims Recover, Culprits Found**

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has released a statement to the press regarding the recent magical coma victims they had, until recently, been unable to cure._

_According to the official statement, the comas were caused by nothing more than a botched Infatuation Charm created by a pair of intrepid students who wished to make a little extra gold by exploiting the hormonal dreams of desperate teenage girls._

_The identities of these two students have not been released and their punishment is being dealt with internally. The Aurors were conspicuously absent during the final stages of this investigation. Likely, Headmistress McGonagall wants to deal with this in-house so as to avoid any more bad press._

_It has been rumored that the students in question are being forced to spend their leisure hours in an internship with unknown masters of their craft. We can only hope this punishment can deter other students from trying similarly illegal activities in the future._

_The victims are also reported to make a full recovery within the next two weeks. All four students have been awakened and are now moving about and speaking like nothing ever happened. They have been rumored to be in good spirits and receiving a near constant stream of visitors and well-wishers._

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy No Longer Bonded**

_Two nights ago the accidental bond between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy was mysteriously dissolved. Madam Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts school's Mediwitch, has confirmed that the two visited her early yesterday morning unbonded._

_“They seemed to be in generally good spirits, if a bit subdued,” the mediwitch had to say about her patients. She also said that she expected them to suffer no side-effects from the spell._

_No one has stepped forward to claim responsibility for the bond and no headway has been made in finding the culprit. It is likely we will never know who was responsible for bonding the pair together, but it seems Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy would be more willing to thank the person rather than press charges._

_Rumors abounded yesterday of the pair sharing an intimate exchange in the corridors of Hogwarts school after being unbonded. We were able to reach Mr. Potter to confirm this occurrence and he had this to say: “Yes, Draco Malfoy and I are determined to give this relationship a go despite the odds stacked against us. I firmly believe we will be very happy together and I expect the public to stay out of it. This is my life and I expect to be allowed to live it as I see fit.”_

_Already Mr. Potter is very protective of his new boyfriend, physically defending him against a number of vicious attacks within the very walls of Hogwarts itself. He is also rumored to be no stranger to the occasional verbal brawl._

_What is, perhaps, even more surprising is Mr. Malfoy's own defense of Mr. Potter. He has been seen many times pulling Mr. Potter out of the way of a particularly nasty curse or firing off insults at those who would hurl them at his boyfriend._

_All in all, the pair seem to be very protective of each other and quite happy together. We can only hope that those dissenters among the populace will eventually come to realize this as well and respect Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy's right to privacy sometime in the near future._

~*~*~*~*~*~

A sunny day in April found Harry and Draco sitting outside under a tree next to the lake with Parkinson and Zabini. They were taking the chance while it was warm out to study for their N.E.W.T.s out in the fresh air. Frankly, Harry found it a bit distracting. The breeze ruffling his hair kept drawing his attention toward the lake and it's lazily floating Giant Squid inhabitant.

On one such distraction, Harry happened to see both Parkinson and Zabini staring at him. Zabini seemed more lost in thought than anything, so Harry ignored him, but Parkinson was sending death glares his way. Harry, used to this treatment by now after several weeks of the same, automatically returned one of his own. The burst of savage glee he got from her shivering surprised him, but he refused to let that show. Somehow Harry could sense that Parkinson was a dangerous threat to his relationship with Draco.

“What's got you so worked up, Potter?” Zabini joked, noticing his glare at Parkinson. “Draco not putting out enough for you?”

The sudden glare Parkinson sent his way, all trace of fear gone, shocked Harry enough for him to flinch away from her. This second glare was much fiercer than the first, filled with so much hatred that, had he not already killed Voldemort, Harry thought she would gladly bundle him up and deliver him personally to the undead snake.

“Shut up, Blaise,” Draco said without raising his head from his book. Harry envied the blond's concentration. He was so focused he hadn't even noticed Parkinson's glare. “What Harry and I do when we're alone is none of your business.”

“Aw, Draco! Don't be such a spoilsport. I'm just curious,” Zabini whined, a broad grin on his face. Harry, though, finally figured out the truth of the night he was bonded to Draco.

“It was you, Parkinson,” Harry blurted out, snapping his mouth closed immediately afterward with an audible click of teeth.

Zabini and Draco stopped their friendly spat and looked up. Parkinson was still glaring at him as though she wished she could cast the Killing Curse on him with nothing more than her stare. No one spoke for a long moment. Then, Draco, looking back and forth between his friend and his lover and noting the seriousness of the situation, gently asked Harry what he meant.

“What do you mean, Harry?”

“Parkinson. She cast the spell that bonded us together,” Harry replied, never taking his wary gaze off her.

“What are you talking about, Potter?” Zabini butted in. “Why would Pansy want to bond you and Draco together? It doesn't make any sense.”

“Harry?” Draco said, his voice was a strange mixture of uncertainty and encouragement. 

Parkinson, oddly enough, remained completely silent, letting her friends defend her.

“She wasn't very happy when Draco and I ended up bonded,” Harry explained.

“Who would have been?” Zabini interrupted. “As I recall, neither you nor Draco were very happy with the circumstances yourselves.”

“But Parkinson seemed a lot angrier about it than unhappy, like someone screwed up her plan.”

“And what plan would that be, Potter?” Parkinson spoke up at last. Harry focused all his attention on her, staring her down.

“You cast the spell on the books so you could bond yourself to Draco,” Harry declared.

There was a sudden silence surrounding their little group. Not even the sound of nature could be heard, nor the sounds of the Giant Squid slapping at the water with long tentacles.

“You can't prove that,” Parkinson hissed, looking angry and desperate.

“I heard someone else in the library that night,” Harry said. “Someone besides me and Draco. A female someone.”

Draco straightened suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. “I remember that night,” he said, speaking slowly through the memories. “You told me you had overheard Harry and his friends talking about the victims and the gems found with them, Pansy. Then you suggested I sneak into the restricted section to look at a book you had seen there once that might help me find out who was behind it.”

Harry picked up the thread of the story, piecing Draco's memories together with his own to paint the whole picture. “So she sneaked in before you to cast the spell on the books, conveniently a two-volume set, and waited for you to show up looking for them. Then it's a simple matter to touch the book you didn't and suddenly Draco's bonded to Parkinson. Except she didn't take into account my coming along and taking her place, messing up her plan.”

“That is outrageous!” Parkinson exclaimed, staring around at both of her fellow Slytherins. Draco was giving her his own glare now and Zabini looked thoughtful.

“Is it, Pansy?” Draco asked. “You've been obsessed with me since we were children.”

“Remember what Madam Pomfrey said, Draco?” Harry said grabbing the blond's wrist to get his attention. “She said the goal of the spell must have been the kiss.”

“I believe she said 'a showing of intimacy,' Harry,” Draco corrected. “What better way to win me over than forcing me to spend every moment with her until I cracked?”

“You can't prove any of it,” Pansy insisted. Draco nodded.

“You're right. We can't, but we also don't have to,” he said. “I know you have the ability, motive, and deviousness to pull this off and so does everyone else here. But you don't have to worry about it, Pansy. I'm not going to try to turn you in.”

Parkinson's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I forgive you. I'm actually feeling rather grateful to you,” Draco smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “If it hadn't been for you I never would have found Harry.”

Draco turned to Harry, staring into his emerald eyes with a molten silver gaze. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as Draco leaned in and, in front of Zabini and Parkinson, kissed him long and deep. Parkinson turned away but Zabini let out several wolf whistles. Neither of which Harry took much notice of. He was too busy burying his hands in silky blond hair and pressing closer into that lithe body.

“Harry?” Draco murmured when they pulled apart to breathe. “Have I ever mentioned how astounding I find your superior powers of observation?”

Harry grinned. “All the time, Draco. All the time.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Boy-Who-Lived Graduates, Admitted to Auror Training**

_Yesterday two years of Hogwarts students graduated from their studies and took their first steps into the adult world. Among the graduating seventh and “eighth” years were war heroes Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger as well as Mr. Potter's former bondmate Draco Malfoy._

_Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are already reported to have applied for and been accepted into Auror Training while Miss Granger, newly engaged to longtime friend Ronald Weasley, has accepted a post in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement with the intention of gaining more rights for house-elves. Mr. Malfoy has accepted an apprenticeship with a renowned Potions Master._

_It seems that, despite the terrible odds, these four young people have already started to build a successful future for themselves. Especially amazing are the tribulations each of them has overcome to do so. Possibly the most difficult trial was the accidental bonding between Harry Potter and his former longtime rival Draco Malfoy earlier in the year._

_The bond only lasted about two months, but in that time these two young men have managed to put aside their differences and learn to see the good in each other. Most surprising to the public was the continuation of Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy's relationship after the dissolution of the bond. Despite the difficulties they experienced, their relationship has remained strong through efforts from friends to separate them and anonymous attacks in Hogwarts corridors._

_Rumours are flying that Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy have also already purchased a house together, large enough to accommodate both their new lifestyles in preparation for their future careers and to visiting friends. Photos taken after their graduation also show both young men wearing similar rings on their fingers. They certainly seem to have settled down for the long haul._

_When asked about their plans for the future Mr. Potter had this to say: “Draco and I are very happy together and we intend to stay that way for the rest of our lives. We are very supportive of the other's career goals and fully expect to settle down into those careers within the next five years.”_

_Mr. Malfoy also made a statement to the Prophet: “I am very glad to have gotten to know Harry. These last few months have been the happiest of my life and I cannot see us ever separating, especially not if Harry has anything to say about it.”_

_It appears these young men are very much devoted to each other, so dissenters had best get used to the idea of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being together. This reporter sees their relationship ending no time soon._

THE END


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